The God's Ties
by xXCourageousXx
Summary: To think that a bed was what had brought the Christian and the Norse shield maiden together. As their relationship grew over the years, neither knew which god was to blame for the ties they felt slowly sowing their hearts, and their souls, together. But one thing was for certain: the God's ties were binding.
1. Comfort

XxX

_Inspired by_ Skuldalio _by WinterSky101 and_ Songs Of Sorrow _by Funky In Fishnet._

XxX

Athelstan watched in amazement as Lagertha patiently listened to each case and judged them accordingly, almost unaware of her body, which was heavy with child.

The woman was meant to rule.

Over the last year, he had grown comfortable with the family he served. Respect was slowly starting to turn to love for them all. Though he had always found a deep sense of care for the children, he found himself growing protective of the pregnant Lagertha with each passing day that he served her.

With Ragnar gone, she was the only companion he had and she had a way of knowing what was on his heart, even before he himself did. After he had earned her trust, she had opened her home to him and taken him in as one of her own. No one messed with him now because they knew he was of the house of Lodbrok.

Lagertha, feeling his eyes on her, quickly looked to him with a small smile before motioning the next couple forward.

The priest blushed and averted his eyes, wringing his hands before him. He found himself praying for his Lady and the child within her.

He knew he could not bear to see the pain shatter her icy eyes. Besides, she was too good of a person to be dealt that cruel of fate.

As the cases dwindled down, Athelstan left to prepare dinner for the family. The sky grew dark and while he was setting the table a cry broke the stillness of the night. Athelstan froze, a plate still in hand, his dark eyes looking up to the door. Gyda looked up from her work and Bjorn stopped mid thrust of his wood sword.

Siggy burst through the doors, "It's Lagertha." She panted, the stress etched into her pale face. She stepped aside as the healers helped the once shield maiden in.

"Mum!" Gyda tossed her sowing aside and followed to the bedroom. Bjorn remained where he was, nervous as to what he should do. He looked to Athelstan for the answer.

The Priest forced a smile, "I'm sure everything is alright. You might have a younger brother before the time is out." He knew it was a lie. He was a servant to God and he had lied to an innocent child. Abet, it was to protect him.

Lagertha had yet to reach her seventh month, any babe who came before the ninth month was either doomed to a hard life or destined to perish. Athelstan feared the worst.

Pushing aside his own fear, he continued to set the table, "She will be alright." He said it as much for Bjorn's benefit as for himself, "Go wash for dinner, we will keep something warm for Gyda and your mother."

Different sounds of distress came from the bedroom as they sat down to their meal. People kept running to and from the room and, after a half hour, they had both had enough of pretending to eat. Pushing aside the food, the pair started towards the room that had started to grow quiet.

Gyda stepped out, keeping the curtain closed tightly behind her. Her soft eyes were raw with tears, "He's…he's gone." As she spoke, one of the other servants walked out with a bloody, wrapped bundle.

His mouth open in shock, Athelstan watched the servant girl walk across the house and out the door. Snow fluttered inside when she left the house and the house grew still. Bjorn rushed into the room to his mother, his sister on his trail. Athelstan remained where he was, terrified of the events that had transpired.

How could everything go from good to terrible in such a short amount of time? He thought of the day the Vikings had first attached his monastery and reality reminded him that life didn't always play fair.

He remained where he was as people rushed around him, each woman in the house went in to give Lagertha their sympathies and share in her sorrow. Athelstan, the loyal man that he was, remained outside her door, patiently sitting on the floor. That is where he was when Siggy, the last one to comfort his Lady, stepped out of the room and practically tripped over him.

"Oh, Athelstan, you startled me." She pressed her hand to her heart while the other wiped the sweat from her brow.

"I'm sorry." He hastened to get up, desperate for news, "How is she?"

Siggy looked to him, not expecting him to understand, "She lost a son, she lost Ragnar's son."

Athelstan looked to the curtain, "He was her son too." He answered softly.

"Ragnar was promised sons." Siggy hissed, trying to get the Priest to see what she meant, "If he doesn't get sons, he will find another. Can't you see where her heartbreak truly stems from? She lost not only a son, but possibly the heart of her husband."

Athelstan looked sharply to the woman, "Ragnar loves her, he would never discard her." He replied harsher than he meant too.

"No, he will just force her to make room for another in their bed." Siggy snipped, gathering a few things from the other room as she spoke, "I am going to go put the children to bed. Don't let anyone disturb her, she needs her sleep."

Once he was assured she was gone, Athelstan carefully pulled back the curtain to the room and stepped into the dark room. Light from the main room filled in through the cracks and cast demonic beings on the wall. Death was the sole occupant of the room. Satisfied that she was safe tonight, he turned to leave and resume his post.

"Athelstan?" A weak voice asked. He winced; Lagertha was not a weak woman, "I…I lost Ragnar's son." Her voice was raw, her heart ripped forcibly open.

"He was your son too." Athelstan replied, his voice gentle. He saw her shutter and cling to the pillow, "And it wasn't your fault. Things happen."

She laughed coldly, "Is that what your god says? Is that what your god says in light of the son I lost?"

"Well…" Athelstan moved to a chair in the corner, wishing to see her face in the little light there was, "He lost a son too." That caught the shield maiden's attention, her tears quieted and she looked to him to continue.

Athelstan shifted uncomfortably, not enjoying the attention, "See He…He sent His son to Earth to die for the salvation of all. To restore God's creation."

"Who would willing give up a son?" Lagertha asked, her eyes still hurt but her tone softening.

Athelstan leaned forward, finding purpose in his English belief once more, "My God. And He didn't give him up so much as sacrifice him and bring him back to life in the end. See, He loves us so much…"

"Would a _loving _god wish to take my son away? To leave me dishonored and alone?" Lagertha replied, the tears staring up once more, "The gods do not love, no god is loving. They are to be respected and honored and left to their own world." She turned onto her side and Athelstan took that as his excusal.

As he reached the door she spoke, "I do not wish to be alone, Priest." Athelstan stopped dead in his tracks and looked back to her. He had opened the curtain enough for light to fall on her ghostly features. Even with sorrow in her eyes, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was what he pictured the Magdalen to look like; a woman who had suffered a hard life but was the keeper of a virtuous heart. Striking golden hair and crystal eyes that pierced any soul.

"Will you come lie with me?" She requested, her voice restored to it's usual strength.

Heat scratched his face and he lowered his eye, "My Lady, that is not…"

"I am not asking you to share my bed as anything more than a companion. I simply wish not to be alone." She replied.

"You know of my vow. I am not to touch a woman." He whispered quietly, looking up to her. Her eyes looked into him and he felt exposed; she could see everything he had ever done or thought in that instant. He was sure of it.

"Ragnar has placed you as the steward of our house, to look after the occupants of Lodbrok. Which includes me. I need your friendship, Priest. Come to bed with me." She beckoned again, her voice saying she wasn't asking any more, but requiring it of him. It was an order. Awkwardly, Athelstan let the leather flap drop closed and moved towards the bed.

He stood by the bedside as Lagertha moved to make room for him in the furs. Athelstan, still fully clothed in his tunic, pants and shoes, which were coated with the grim of his day's work, nervously sat down and let Lagertha place the fur she used over him. Respectfully she kept her distance and snuggled down into her crook of the bed. Athelstan, on the other hand, remained as stiff as a starched English shirt.

Soon though, the work of the day caught up to him and he had drifted off into a deep sleep. Lagertha, though, could not sleep and took comfort in watching the Englishman dream. She had never seen a man quite like him. He was so dark, from his deep eyes to the color of his hair. He stuck out painfully among the other Norsemen.

She smiled though, thinking of his unfailing loyalty to her and her family even though he had been stolen from his country and forced to be a slave.

_No, he isn't a slave any more_, she thought with a wrinkle of her nose, _but my friend._

And what more could she ask for in a friend than the Priest? Once she was assured he was asleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, she shifted across the furs until her body was next to his and she could share his warmth. She remained respectful and didn't touch him as her thoughts turned.

Lagertha remembered the couple from earlier; with the child of Heimdallr. Men were allowed to go out and conquer more than just land, why were the woman allowed to be tossed about for doing the same?

Deceit tempted her. If she could get the Priest to lie with her and produce a child, Ragnar would get his son. Lagertha was sure she could convince the others in the house to remain quiet and then she wouldn't be dishonored and tossed aside because she couldn't produce good, strong sons.

The Priest had lived with them for a year and adapted quite well to their life; surely his heirs would be strong as well. And from what she had seen, any child of his would have a mind filled with wisdom and a heart for justice. Yes, he would produce great sons.

Besides, it wasn't as if the child would rule as Earl, that would be Bjorn's birthright, but any other sons she could produce would secure Ragnar's right to rule.

She knew her body and the ways of a woman just as she knew a battle axe, which was to say quite well. If only…

Lagertha remembered his rejection to the first invitation to share her bed and his vow. Though she had seen the temptation deep within his eyes that night, he had still told her no. There was no man she could not seduce, but the Priest had rejected her with ease.

Huffing, she moved to her back to gaze up to the black ceiling. Surely, even if he wasn't still under his vows, his god would have a problem with him sleeping with another's woman.

The sleeping form of the man next to her turned towards her, his eyes still closed and his long lashes dusted his cheek as he sought warmth.

_Athelstan is my friend_, she thought, looking at his peaceful face, _One of my most trusted companions, I could not be the cause of him to bear that secret against Ragnar, it would only cause the Priest pain, nor could I stand the constant praying for forgiveness. _

"Thank you," She whispered to the sleeping Priest, moving carefully to press her lips softly against his forehead before moving back to her place, "for being my friend." And with that, she snuggled into bed, comfortably appreciating the presence of the English treasure Ragnar had found worth keeping.

XxX


	2. The Rune

XxX

The Priest huffed, watching his breathe come out in white, shimmering clouds as he walked up the steep embankment. For a young man – he was just starting his twenty third year – he was, of course, in decent shape, but the mountain leading to Uppsala was quickly proving him wrong.

"Priest." Floki, the odd ship maker, came skipping up next to him and tossed his slender arm around his shoulder, "Will you join us in the worship of Odin, All-Father?"

Athelstan stopped and looked to the smirking man, looking past the dark charcoal circles around his eyes and into the mocking depths of them, "And Thor as well, along with Freyja. I will worship all the gods on our pilgrimage."

Floki narrowed his eyes, testing his words, and then chuckled before continuing on his way. Athelstan sighed, brushing aside his sweaty bangs. Now he was anxious not only for the last half mile that was left of their journey, but the façade he was keeping up.

His hand tightened around the small cross on his wrist and he pressed on. Determination grew within him. Soon he was closer to those leading the way and he rested into an easy pace next to Lagertha.

"How do you fare, Athelstan?" The shield maiden asked.

Athelstan kept his eyes forward and hid the surprise at the use of his first name. Those in the village, including the Lodbrok family, always referred to him as Priest. In the last few weeks however, since he had shared her bed, Lagertha had started to refer to him by his given name.

"Strong." He replied, feeling a sense of rejuvenation. Lagertha gave him a small smile, looking up to him through her lashes.

Ragnar made his way to the Priest and clapped him on the shoulder, "Good, you will need it." Just as the Earl spoke, the temple came into view and Athelstan stopped in awe. Ragnar laughed and continued on, leaving the pair behind.

"Does it please you?" Lagertha asked, intrigued by his reaction to the old building. She remembered when she was a girl and had seen Uppsala for the first time; there was power in just looking upon the dwelling of the gods. Based on his reaction, she judged that he was becoming a true Norseman after all.

"Greatly." His eyes moved so quickly across the scape, trying to take it all in.

"Come, it is time we cleanse ourselves and pray." Lagertha encouraged, continuing on. Athelstan followed obediently, turning around as he went and trying not to miss anything.

Once they had been sprinkled with the blood sacrifice, they were free to roam the open room. Ragnar went straight to Odin while Bjorn and Gyda wandered around.

While Athelstan looked onto a beautiful statue of Freya, Lagertha quietly made her way next to him, "Will you ask the gods for something?" She smiled when she saw him startle, as if he were a boy caught doing something wrong.

"There is nothing I need." He answered, looking back to the statue.

Lagertha's eyes danced playfully in the firelight as she stepped forward, "Surely there is something you need from Freyja?"

"Isn't she the goddess of fertility?" Athelstan asked, following after Lagertha as she stepped across the small pool to the statue. He watched his footing, not wanting to fall into the cool water in the sacred room, "I am not married nor in need of sons, I need nothing from her."

"Oh, how naïve you are, dear Priest." Lagertha stopped, causing Athelstan to stop suddenly and uneasily catch his balance, "She is also the goddess of love and beauty, earth and death, power as well as fertility. She can give you everything."

"Do you favor Freyja?" Athelstan asked, watching as his companion hugged the wooden carving. Lagertha finished her prayer and turned back around.

"Since I was a girl." Lagertha answered, starting back across the smooth stones worn down from years of steps.

"I thought all gods were to be worshiped equally?" Athelstan, whose curiosity matched that of the children, followed after her.

"They each have their place but we each find favor with one in particular. For Ragnar it is Odin, for myself it is Freyja." Lagertha patiently answered his question as she moved next to the statue of Thor. It was obvious she had created a routine to follow whenever she entered the sanctuary of Uppsala over the years and she didn't mind having the Priest shadow her.

Athelstan stopped before the pool, not wanting to chance Fate again, "Why do you favor her?"

"When I was a girl, my father taught me how to fight. I was expected to be as strong as a man but as gentle as a woman. My mother told me that Freyja was the same; a great beauty with a fierce temper. She took care of her own and loved her people. I wanted to be like that and so I chose her as my goddess." With that, she turned and said her next prayer.

Athelstan continued trailing after Lagertha, getting his questions about the gods answered. She was more patient and understanding that either Ragnar or Floki and he found her company much more enjoyable that either man.

As the sky grew dark, Lagertha excused herself to check on the children and left the Priest to wander the booths.

One in particular caught his eye and he found himself standing in front of a table of amulets. The craftsmanship had been honed long ago, which was clear when looking at the quality of the talismans. Athelstan couldn't help comparing the beautiful shapes of Mjölnir and Ruins to those of the Cross in England. He couldn't decide which was more beautiful to him and that troubled him.

"Are you looking for something to take home to your woman?" The shop keeper asked. The years had worn his face but his eyes were still a youthful blue. An older woman, who looked similar to the man, sat back in a chair and watched their interaction with a faint smile. Athelstan assumed they were married from the unseen connection between the two, "It is best never to return home empty handed."

Lagertha came to mind as he answered, "I don't have a woman back home." Athelstan said, his eyes wandering over the different gems. A small oval of amber lay set in silver. "What is this one for?" He asked, carefully picking up the charm by the thin chain.

"Ahh, that is a stone of amber for the goddess Freyja. It a talisman to bring the wearer the gift of fertility and love." The man explained.

"How much is it worth?" Athelstan asked, looking up to meet the blue eyes of the shop keeper.

The older man looked back, knowing from his years of service that the brown eyes of the young man meant foreign blood. Something about the young man, though, tugged not only at the man's heart but his wife's as well. The man had come with a tribe of Norseman, the pair had watched him walk in with the great Ragnar Lodbrok, but he lacked the violent spirit of one. The young man that stood before them was a gentle spirit, whose compassion for others would always win out in battle.

The man looked to his wife, who just smiled, "For someone that has traveled so far to come to Uppsala, think of it as a gift."

"I can't." Athelstan started to hand it back but the man wouldn't accept it.

The man's knobby hand closed Athelstan's around the token, "Please, accept my generosity." Athelstan couldn't reject his kindness and accepted the gift with a smile.

"Yale!" The shop keeper turned and excused himself to help the other customer. Athelstan smiled and tied the amulet around his neck.

"I hope she likes it." The wife commented, shifting the blanket on her legs. Athelstan started to correct her but she just shook her head.

"Men don't buy charms of Freyja for themselves." The woman said, moving from her wooden chair and making her way towards the Priest. She picked up a piece of charcoal and looked to the Priest, her soft grey eyes asking him to bow his head. He complied, having always had a sense of respect for elders. Softly, she drew a small diamond on his forehead and smiled, "May the gods bless your journey." Athelstan tucked the talisman away and thanked her for her kind words.

As Athelstan walked back to their camp, he thought over the events that had transpired. From their arrival, to Lagertha explaining the gods, to the kind shop couple; the Vikings were nothing like the Anglo Saxons, but they had their own sense of community that drew him in.

A few of the men from their village gazed at the Priest as he walked by and he felt uneasy under the intense attention, his speed picked up as he got closer to their tent. Once safely inside, he breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against one of the posts that held the dwelling together.

"Where have you been? And why do you have Ingwaz on your forehead?" Siggy demanded, her tone chiding as she stirred something over the fire. Lagertha, who had been working with Gyda at the table, stopped and looked up, as did Rollo, Ragnar, and Bjorn.

The Priest gazed upwards as if he could see the ruin and shrugged nervously, "A…what?" He looked to Lagertha, figuring she would be the least likely to embarrass him for his ignorance.

"It is the ruin sign for the god Ing. It means the beginning of something or the understanding of one's potential; in some cases it means fertility." Lagertha explained, her eyes as gentle as a forever patient mother's. Athelstan blushed and Rollo huffed, his arms crossed, while Ragnar chuckled.

"I think it looks nice on him." Gyda defended, her chin out and eyes defiant. Athelstan smiled at her boldness. Ragnar stood and kissed her head before starting towards the door, Rollo followed his lead.

"Ragnar." Lagertha stood, her tone commanding attention. The Earl stopped and turned to his wife, "Don't go out tonight."

Ranger smirked, "What?"

"It…it…" Lagertha dropped her head, her cheeks growing warm with embarrassment, "I was hoping we could enjoying a quiet evening. You have done nothing but meet with other Earls and Kings since you returned from the raids."

Ragnar walked forward and gently picked up a piece of her hair, trying to create a sense of privacy between them, "It's a festival. I can't just stay inside."

"I'm asking you not too." She looked to him sharply, speaking through clenched teeth. Athelstan removed his outer cloak and hung it up, wanting to move away from the tension. He took notice of Siggy's glare which was directed towards Rollo, who seemed oblivious to the jealousy emulating from the woman.

"I will be back later." Ragnar started back towards the door.

"Ragnar." Lagertha called, but it was too late. Ragnar was gone and so was Rollo. Siggy, still clearly upset, started serving the food and slamming it onto the table. The meal was eaten in silence and, as the sky grew dark and the festivities grew louder, Athelstan cleared the table once they were finished.

Bjorn, who was always protective of his mother, especially since the miscarriage, sulked off to bed. Gyda wanted to stay up but Lagertha ushered her to bed, knowing she didn't want her seeing the deeds of the night life just yet. Siggy huffed and stormed off to bed and Athelstan just continued to clean.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Lagertha storm through the common room and to her private quarters, alone. A few minutes later, he heard her soft sobs escaping the thick curtain. Collecting a cup of weak tea and a candle, he started for Lagertha's room.

Carefully pulling back the flap, he stepped inside and stopped, "I brought you some tea."

Lagertha sat up on the bed, her back shielding her tears from the Priest as she desperately tried to wipe them away, "Thank you Athelstan, can you—can you just place it on the table there?" He did as he was told and took his place by the door once again. Athelstan grew uneasy at the sight of the strong woman breaking apart.

"Do…do you want to talk about it?" He asked, his hands together before him.

"I will never be with child again. I cannot give Ragnar the sons he seeks." Lagertha replied honestly, looking to him with her raw eyes.

Cautiously, he removed the amulet from around his neck and moved closer to the bed, "I—I got something for you today."

Lagertha look to him curiously, "What is it?" He held up the necklace and let it catch the candle light.

Quickly, she stood up and took hold of the gift, her eyes admiring it.

"The woman at the booth said it was for fertility." Athelstan explained, "I thought it might help you."

Lagertha looked up to him with a soft smile, "Will you help me put it on?" She turned around and brushed aside her hair.

Taking an easy breathe, he retrieved the charm and carefully placed it around her neck, "I know it isn't much."

"No, I love it." She gently touched the charm and looked back to the Priest, "It reminds me of one my father gave me as a child. I lost it when I was in a battle a couple years back." Lagertha moved to retrieve a mirror and looked at her reflection, "It's beautiful, thank you Athelstan."

Brushing back his shaggy curls, he smiled, "I'm glad you like it."

Lagertha turned back to him, a picture of elegant beauty. Again, Athelstan was struck with her appearance; this time a perfect reflection of what he thought the goddess Freyja would look like.

"Will you come to bed with me?" She held out her hand, tempting him, "I need my friend once more, Athelstan." Without hesitation, he accepted the temptation and let her lead him to the bed. His smooth hand, that was just starting to callus, was the same size of hers, which had seen years of hard work. A spark rushed through him at the contact. A feeling he had never felt before took hold of him and was only quenched when she released her hold.

Once they had settled into the furs, laying a respectable distance apart but facing each other, the Priest plucked up the courage and asked the question that had been plaguing him since their arrival, "Why have you been referring to me by my Christian name instead of just Priest?" Her crystal eyes looked away from his, unable to face him.

"Will you tell me?" He pressed, his eyes lingering on her face.

The tears had started again when she looked back up, "Did Ragnar explain the sacrifices of the festival?" Athelstan pulled back, caught off guard.

"At the end of the week, we will offer sacrifices to the gods. Because of our…problems…conceiving, he wants to give a great sacrifice to the gods in hopes that they will give him his heart's desire: sons." Again, she looked away from him.

Athelstan was still unsure why she was talking about things he already knew instead of answering his question.

"You said your father sacrificed your life for your god." Lagertha said, her crystal eyes meeting his, "We sacrifice other's lives for our gods as well." Athelstan's eyes grew, the golden flecks in his deep eyes dulling as he realized what she was saying.

"Ragnar has…has chosen you as the sacrifice. To be killed and…and hung in the temple grove." Lagertha found her courage and continued to look into his eyes, piercing his soul and looking for his heart's reaction to her words, "It is an honor in our culture."

Athelstan's pulse raced as his eyes shifted across the darkening room. It felt like the world was closing in on him and he was powerless to stop it. Had God really saved his life only for it to be sacrificed to pagan gods?

Then, a thought dawned on him, "You still have yet to answer my question."

"I wanted nothing left unsaid between us." Lagertha answered, sighing and shifting to her back, "You are my friend Athelstan and I wanted you to know that."

Athelstan smiled, finding an odd sense of comfort in her words.

"Those charged with overseeing the sacrifices will seek you out tomorrow to test you. Tonight, at midnight, Thyri will come to you and prepare you for tomorrow." Lagertha explained, tilting her head to the side to look at Athelstan. She moved her hand across the bed and gently brushed the Ingwaz on his forehead before taking his hand once more. Again, the odd feeling from earlier stirred within him.

"I know how preparations for sacrifices usually go, but I would ask you to not to join with Thyri. I've had enough of men in this house sleeping around and I'd rather not be dishonored by you as well." She kept her eyes on the dark ceiling as her thoughts turned privately.

Athelstan nodded in understanding, "As you know, it is against my vows."

She turned to him with a soft smile, "I know, but I wanted to say it anyway. You act more like a Norseman then a Priest now a days." Lagertha replied, fiddling with the edge of one of the furs.

"For your peace of mind Lagertha, I swear to never touch Thyri." Athelstan promised. Lagertha's eyes lit up as one of her requests was taken to heart and, breaking the unspoken agreement of keeping their space, moved across the bed until her body was next to his. Athelstan tensed, as expected, but relaxed at the warmth she offered. Lagertha sighed and nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck.

Guilt started to gnaw at his spirit as he thought of the vows he had taken; forced upon him by his Father giving him up because he couldn't afford another mouth. Though he had come to accept his life, and wouldn't change it for anything, he was just starting to realize that he had never really had a choice in where his life led like other men. As life went on, more and more he felt like God let His creations make decisions for themselves and maybe, just maybe, God had cast him away from the monastery so that he could live a life England could never offer him.

The further he was away from the Isles, the more he started to contemplate the idea of the relationship between men and women. God had created Eve so Adam would not be lonely; surely God did not look down upon the marriages of His creation. Did He? Surly one could love a woman and still serve God with his whole heart.

The more he played with the idea, the more he believed it.

"I will miss your companionship, Athelstan." Lagertha breathed, her voice tickling his neck. Athelstan tensed, knowing what the feeling was now. Though God had created human companionship, she was someone else's and, monk or not, that made his actions wrong.

"I love my necklace." Lagertha sighed, moving her body so it rested against his. Athelstan swallowed hard, feeling her warm skin through her dress, "No one has gotten me something so thoughtful before."

Athelstan shifted, feeling uncomfortable by their closeness. His flesh wanted to stay where he was, knowing this could very well be his last night, but the spirit took hold of his temptations to subdue them, "Surely Ragnar has brought you spoils from his raids."

"He bring me gifts and trinkets, though I would prefer to be on the battle field with him, but he never bring me things that speak to my heart. Do you know what I mean?" She asked, her soft, clear eyes looking to him for an answer.

Athelstan gazed back at her and nodded.

"You seem to know my heart better than my husband. Isn't that sad? A kidnapped Christian knowing a Norse shield maiden better than her own kin." Lagertha smiled softly and let her eyes flutter close, the weariness of the day taking its toll on her.

"He won't leave you." Athelstan cooed to her, "You'll see, you will have many sons and he will be happy." He brought his hand up and chanced luck to brush back her hair, "The gods will grant you your heart's desire."

He continued to speak as she drifted off and soon he joined in her even breathing. At midnight, as she had said, Thyri carefully made her way into the room and stirred the sleeping Priest.

"Come with me, Priest." She smiled in your youth and offered him her hand, like Lagertha had done. He didn't want to accept the offer but he knew he would have no choice.

Careful not to stir the shield maiden, he moved away and tucked the furs securely around her to quench the chills of the night. He stole one last look at the woman, whose golden hair flowed out around her like the halo of an icon. She was the picture of beauty and he felt himself lusting after another man's wife.

_Maybe it is best if I leave this world, as a sacrifice to a pagan god or not, so that I do not dishonor the law of our Lord, _Athelstan thought as he turned back to Thyri.

Thyri continued to smirk like a seducing nymph of myth as she led the Priest out of the room and towards her own room.

Once inside, she turned to him and started to remove his tunic. He rose his arms, accepting his fate. Her eyes roamed over his body and her deep, tempest eyes looked to his. She leaned in to kiss him, but he skillful turned.

Thyri, caught off guard by the rejection, turned to gather her things, "I have never been turned down by a man before." She said, her tone scorned.

Athelstan remained quietly where he was, refusing to attend to her feminine psyche. As the night continued, Thyri cleaned the Priest and dressed him in a pristine white tunic, knowing he wouldn't give into the traditional ways of sacrifice.

The two fell asleep on either side of the small room and, when day broke, Ragnar fetched Athelstan to take him to the temple.

The temple loomed in the distance, growing more monstrous as they drew closer. The beauty of it yesterday was gone and now he only saw it as the entrance to Hades.

"Leave us." The temple keeper said to the Earl. Ragnar squeezed the Priest's shoulder before taking his leave.

"They bring a Christian before us to serve as a worthy sacrifice to our gods." The man mocked, looking to his followers who smirked and jeered in agreement.

"I do not follow the Christian ways any longer." Athelstan denied, keeping his head high and his shoulders square. Inside his sleeve, he clung to the small cross.

"A sacrifice to Odin requires the highest respect for our gods and unwavering loyalty. Do you reject your former ways?" The man, his curiosity peaked at the Priest's defiance, moved forward. His eyes, smeared with black, tested the former monk like Floki had done yesterday.

"I renounce them." He stated again, feeling the edges of the cross bite into his hand as he clutched it tighter.

"And again." The man gestured for a third rejection of the Christian God.

A third time, he spoke up in denial, "I do not follow the English god." While he spoke, the Seer made his way towards him. Scrutinizing him, he started to walk circles around him.

Athelstan shifted his hand, his palms growing sweaty, and it pulled the clean fabric back just enough for the light to catch the Christian cross.

The man instantly pounced, taking a sharp hold of Athelstan's hand. Sweat beaded down his forehead as he winced, trying to twist his arm free.

"Liar. Pagan. Atheist." The man looked through his dark paint, his eyes condemning, "Get out of my sight, you are not worthy to be among our kind or our gods." Athelstan didn't need to be told twice and he took off out of the temple.

He ran until he had reached the outskirts of the festival and only stopped when he knew he was safely out of sight. He collapsed by the stream, hidden safely by the large tree. His breath came out sharply, burning his lungs with each exhale.

"I am sorry Lord, so sorry." Tears streamed down his dark eyes as his fingers dug into the rich earth, "I am no better than St. Peter. I have denied you and it is inexcusable. I know better than to deny your name."

He didn't know how long he sat there, but his arms eventually gave out and he lay on the cool grass, crying freely. Night rolled in and the stars scattered.

"Athelstan!" A familiar voice rung out over the valley, "Athelstan!"

The man quickly righted himself and moved against the tree, trying to stay hidden in the shadows. Stilling his breathing, he concealed himself even more, knowing he had failed her.

Lagertha stood in the middle of the clearing, only yards from him, looking around. He almost gave himself up when he saw she was in just a simple dress in the cool night. Athelstan wore a thick, fur coat that he was more than willing to give her.

Her shoulders fell defeated as her eyes searched for him, "Athelstan, please." Then he caught sight of the amulet hanging around her neck, the amber casting a glimmer around the field, "I'm not mad at you."

That pulled at his heart and he stood up, Lagertha had her back turned to him as he stepped out into the moonlight.

"I am here."

She turned around, always on guard, ready to strike, but the instant her eyes landed on him she relaxed.

"Ragnar has called a meeting." She explained, "I was sent to find you." Athelstan nodded and moved to stand before her.

Her eyes quickly shifted over his form, lingering on his left hand, which hid his cross, "Can I share something with you?"

Again, he nodded, "Of course."

Lagertha stepped forward, closing the distance between them and creating a sense of intimacy between them in the empty field, "I am thankful you were not chosen." She whispered, her lashes brushing the top of her cheek.

The feeling from the previous night filled the Priest once more and his voice caught in his throat, "But, I chanced your future children. I couldn't give you your heart's desire."

Though he had lived with the Vikings for almost two years, and was quite tempted to give up his former life in favor of their pagan one, he knew human sacrifices wouldn't appease his God or anyone else's. Not his death or anyone else's could secure Lagertha's fertility, but he knew that she would appreciate the heart of his words.

She smiled sadly, "I want sons for Ragnar but I would prefer having you as a friend for myself." Athelstan shifted uneasily under her honest gaze, the feelings plaguing his heart once more, "I am glad you were spared."

"I am too." Athelstan sighed in relief.

"Will you return with me?" Lagertha offered him her hand and instantly he was taken back to the previous night. He took it without hesitation, knowing he was treading in dangerous waters.

Lanterns were strung in the trees, guiding their way back to the festival. Lagertha kept his hand until they returned to the tent.

She stopped just outside and turned to him, "Our village Seer will be joining us. Keep quiet until you are asked to speak. Understood?" Athelstan nodded and followed her in.

The room was quieter than death and a shadow was cast on the house occupants by the fire in the middle. Lagertha nodded for Athelstan to take his place by Ragnar as she sat to the right of her husband.

The Seer, who had always made Athelstan nervous, stood before the gathering, leaning heavily on his staff. Athelstan brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, walling himself off from those around him.

"We have determined that he," The blind Seer nodded to Athelstan, "is unfit to be a sacrifice. Aethor, who is proceeding over the week's end sacrifices, has declared him unfit because he still holds to his old religion." Athelstan grew stiff, feeling the hate filled eyes of those in the room on him.

"Someone will have to take his place." He continued. Athelstan kept his eyes on the fire as everyone looked around the room, waiting for someone to volunteer.

"You said Aethor does not see him fit, what about you Seer? Do you see him as a fit sacrifice to the gods?" Ragnar asked in his typical tone.

The Seer's blind eyes gazed at Athelstan, looking through him to his soul, "He has a great Fate destined by the gods"

"And what is this…destiny?" Ragnar looked to Athelstan, his eyes almost mocking.

"He will have a child, a great one, who will bring honor to the house of Lodbrok." The Seer continued.

Ragnar chucked and others around the room joined him, everyone, that is, except for Lagertha, who pondering the words of the Seer.

"But, he is a priest, an Englishman." The Earl stated, pointing to Athelstan, "Surly his destiny can't be too great for he is just a slave and any…_children_," Ragnar smirked, finding the thought amusing, "would be nothing more than slaves as well. And weaklings at that." Lagertha looked to her husband, her eyes narrowed at his coldness.

"I have seen what I have seen. He is not an appropriate sacrifice to the gods for it will only bring their wrath upon your head. That is all." With that, the Seer turned and left the dwelling, his thick cloak billowing behind him.

Lagertha, who remembered her plan to trick the Priest into lying with her, looked up to her friend, while Ragnar continued to chuckle. Though, the truth be told, Ragnar was considering what the Seer had said as well, for he knew he always spoke the truth.

Athelstan just sat quietly, his dark eyes lingering on the fire. He had heard what was said about his fate but he didn't linger on it.

The Priest could feel her eyes on him and chose not to meet them. He knew his lust for her was growing and he didn't need to tempt himself, especially now that his life was spared.

Athelstan cared deeply for her, like he did the rest of the Lodbrok clan, but he knew he couldn't let his feelings become anything more than the respect due to his Lady. And, if they were left unattended, he was certain they would turn into something more than loyalty.

So he continued to gaze into the depths of the fire and began reciting the prayer of his Lord in Latin, trying to quench the lust of his flesh.

That is how he survived the week, and the weeks to come, until the sickness overtook him and threw him into a second battle for his life.

XxX


	3. Shared Sorrow

XxX

Athelstan tossed his head back and forth; his hair matted with sweat. The plague held him captive and things were looking grave indeed. He had been lost to the sickness for days now and, judging by the rate they had lost others, if he didn't come out of it soon, he would be dead by morning. That thought didn't sit with her; the Priest just had to get better.

Pushing the despair away, Lagertha rung out a cloth and gently dapped his face to cool his fever. Until he had fallen sick, Athelstan had been spending every second of his time tending to the sick. She had gotten to see the true depth of his compassion for others and, though others in their village found the characteristic a weakness, she saw that it was what made him strong. His heart, so full of love and grace, was what would keep him fighting, it had to. He was destined to have a great child to carry on his legacy and bring honor to the house of Lodbrok; he had to keep fighting and she would stop at nothing to help him survive.

But then, the unthinkable had happened; Gyda, her pride and joy, who had a heart like Athelstan's, fell ill.

Lagertha had felt torn at the beginning, trying to divide her time evenly between her friend and her daughter, but in the end, at Gyda's request to look to Athelstan's health, she had turned the majority of her attention to the Priest.

Now she sat with his head in her lap, spoon feeding him what they had left of a watery soup. The harvest had not been kind to them and they barley had enough food for anyone to last the winter. Even Lagertha, as the Earl's wife, was going hungry so that others would have just a hint of relief from their bloated stomachs.

His pale eyelids slowly moved as his body accepted the food; dull, almost dead, brown eyes looked up to her weakly.

"Eat." She encouraged, massaging his throat so it would go down. Lagertha found comfort in being needed by a man for once. Of course, with Ragnar and the other warriors gone, she was left to care for the village, but being the judge wasn't the same as being wanted or needed as a woman.

Ragnar had been so distance since they had lost the child; he hadn't touched her since his return months ago and the night before he departed for the next raids he had slept in a different room. Not only was Ragnar distant, but Bjorn was growing up as well and had little need of his mother anymore.

The need to be needed was great in the shield maiden and she remained by the Priest's side, finding fulfillment in tending to his illness while Siggy tended to Gyda.

She lay curled up by his head, her fingers gently untangled his mess of dark tresses while her other hand clung to the amulet of Freyja in a silent prayer. She wondered if he had really kept his promise to her all those months ago and not touched Thyri, though it didn't matter now, for the girl was dead.

"You have to recover." She whispered into his ear, tracing her fingers in the pattern of Ingwaz on his forehead as she prayed to Freyja to save him and keep his destiny intact. Fatigue finally over took her and, in the wee hours of the morning, she drifted, but not before she could feel the warmth of his forehead starting to break.

Athelstan woke with a start, his heart racing and breathe desperate. His wild eyes looked around at the still forms.

He quickly caught sight of the small girl next to him, "Gyda…" His whole body was weak and felt like led in water as he made his way across the walkway to her mat.

"Gyda…" Athelstan knew he had to get to her, if he didn't she would be lost forever. He had to share what little life he had left with her, "Gyda…"

The girl gave no response to her name and, as he grew closer, his concern heightened.

"Gyda." He panted as he drew on the last bit of his strength, sweat beading down his temples. Athelstan stopped when he could go no further and, laying on the floor, reached out for her, "Gyda…"

"Gyda?" A second voice joined his. Though it sounded further away, it was stronger than his. His started to slide out of consciousness as a blurry vision of Lagertha rushed passed him to her daughter. She kept repeating her name over and over again, going so far as to shake the empty body of the girl. And then, a wail pierced the quiet room, the cry of a mother losing her child.

Athelstan was still too weak to do anything but watch. What he wouldn't give to be strong enough to hold her and protect her from the world, to take the pain away from her. Even now in his weakness, he would gladly take her sorrow upon himself.

XxX

Athelstan stood weakly, wrapped in a blanket against the chill, and leaning heavily on Helga, who had taken over his care while Lagertha dealt with the funeral arrangements. Of course, both Lagertha and Helga had tried to convince him to stay in the hall, but he couldn't. Not only for his own sake in saying goodbye to the small child, but to be there in support for Lagertha.

As the pyre was lit, he recited the familiar prayers of funeral he knew and watched the flames consumed the body.

When the night had grown late and people started to return home, Helga turned to him, "Would you like to return to the hall?" She asked gently. Though she was smaller than him, she held his arm firmly and kept him upright.

Athelstan dropped his head, swaying a bit, "I'd…I'd like to go home."

Helga smiled sweetly and nodded, "I figured you would say that." With that, she started to lead him back to the Earl's house. Once they were back, Helga set to preparing something to eat while Athelstan shuffled about doing what he could.

"Lagertha told me that she wishes you to share her bed tonight." Helga said, stirring the pot as it boiled. Her deep eyes looked to him without judgment. Athelstan tensed anyway, feeling like he was a boy again, caught doing something he shouldn't have been.

Sensing his anxiety, Helga looked away as she worked, "It isn't odd in our lives to share your bed with someone other than your husband."

"We don't do anything." Athelstan said, feeling the need to defend himself, "It is just for companionship."

"I do not judge you, Priest." Helga quickly corrected, "I just didn't want you feeling like you were stabbing Ragnar in the back. You aren't being disloyal by keeping Lagertha company, it is good for her…and for yourself too." Athelstan quickly looked to the lover of Floki, "I have an old friend, Gael, who keeps me company while Floki is away."

"But you are not married, there is a difference. And…I was taught otherwise." Athelstan replied, his guilt weighing him down. Even ignoring the fact that he had once been a monk, it was disgraceful to share a bed with a woman he was not married to, even more so that she was someone else's wife. Though they had never committed any acts of adultery, he had given into temptation and gone to her bed.

"I see your thoughts turning, Priest. Your England does not allow our customs." Helga served the weak soup and sat down across the table from him.

Athelstan ate because he knew he had to, not because he was hungry. The feelings of Gyda never sharing a meal with him again gnawed at his thoughts, "They don't, but it doesn't mean it doesn't happen." He explained halfheartedly, his sorrow for the lost girl growing. She was such an angel and so young; he was sure she was in Heaven now among the angels.

"Then why condemn it? Obviously it is natural to share one's body and seek pleasure with others." The young woman, who couldn't have been more than his age, asked curiously.

"The nature of marriage is to reflect our relationship with our Lord God. We have no other gods besides Him and therefore we have no others spouses. At least, that is how it is supposed to be." Athelstan answered. He thought about the monastery and how that was the only life he had ever known. The only real marriages he had seen up close were those of royalty on pilgrimages, which were always surrounded by rumors of infidelity, "People do break their vows of wedlock, but it is wrong and to be repented for."

"You Christians are quite odd. A human relationship reflecting that of your god?" Helga wrinkled her nose and continued to eat, "It is wrong to share your bed, yet you do, and then you feel guilty for it."

Athelstan smiled into his soup, "We believe we are in a constant battle of flesh and spirit, sometimes one wins out over the other and we have to ask for forgiveness."

"Which will win out tonight, Priest?" Helga asked, sipping her soup and her playful eyes looking to him.

Athelstan stirred the thin liquid, lost in his thoughts, "Can I keep confidence with you?" He looked to her, his dark eyes mixing with hers. Helga nodded.

"I am drawn to Lagertha like any man would be, and I know it is wrong, but another part of me is her friend and I can't let her face the night alone without her daughter or Ragnar there to comfort her." He sighed, feeling relieved to have the confession off his chest, "I pray to my God to keep my flesh subdued in light of my spirit to help her."

Helga considered what he said, looking to him with her large eyes, "You respect her."

"Greatly." Athelstan nodded, slowly standing up to return his soup to the pot.

"I have never met a man more honoring of a friendship." Helga turned on the bench so she could watch him, "Of either a man or woman. Ragnar and Lagertha are blessed by the gods to have you." Athelstan smiled as he poured the water and potatoes back into the cauldron.

"I am going to go find Bjorn and bring him home. Will you be able to make it to the bed without my help?" She asked and he nodded. Helga stood and left without further delay.

Grimacing in pain, Athelstan started his slow trek towards the back of the house. Once there, exhaustion took over and he just collapsed on the bed. His fever had broken and he was one of the lucky ones to survive, but it would take a while until he was back to his former self.

The night was quiet, only the sounds of the wind and the fire crackling could be heard throughout the house, which was enough to lull the Priest into a deep sleep.

Lagertha returned to the house, equally exhausted. She didn't know how much longer she could have stood there, unflinching as people cried for her daughter and gave her their condolences.

Now, safely in her home, she let herself go. Tears streamed down her face at the loss of her young beauty and sobs choked her. Her arms crossed defensively, as if to hold herself together, as she made her way to her room.

Pushing the door aside, the light revealed a familiar face. Leaning against the doorframe, she gazed on at the sleeping man. When had she come to see him as a comfort? The one to turn to in her sorrow or protect her from the night?

Ragnar use to hold that place in her heart but now, with him gone and his coolness at the loss of their son, she looked to the Priest. A tie had been established between them the first night he had stayed with her and it had grown stronger at Uppsala and then again when she had nursed him back to health.

She unclasped her outer fur and tossed it to the nearest chair, making her way towards the bed. Lagertha had seen Helga searching the crowd for Bjorn so by the way Athelstan lay on the furs, fully clothed and not under them, she assumed he had been left to turn himself in.

Kneeling by the small bed, she carefully untied his boots and pulled them off. Lining them against the bed, she next reached for the furs to replace the rough blanket he had been wrapped in since he left the hall. Athelstan was soundly asleep as she shifted him on the bed. He shuttered at the cold slightly but snuggled into the warmth of the furs, still fast asleep when she finished.

Next, she turned to her own routine. Taking the pins out of her hair, she softly braided the gold locks to the side and changed into her night cloths. Her bare feet patted against the cool ground as she made her way back towards the occupied bed.

Settling herself into the furs, she couldn't help but watch the man who lay across from her. She shifted so that she lay on her stomach, able to watch his eyes as he dreamed. Lagertha couldn't begin to describe the emotions that tore at her; a mixture of grief for the loss of her daughter and relief that Athelstan was alive.

Her thoughts wandered to Uppsala and the words of the Seer. She sighed, moving her hand up to brush his curls aside, and wondered who the woman would be that would carry the promised child. Jealousy prickled her as she thought of another woman having sons with her friend and she remembered her want to seduce the Priest months ago.

As a child, her father had said she would bear many, strong sons who would fight alongside her. Now, she knew his words to be a fairytale.

Still, she pondered her desire to be with child. Desperately, she wanted to feel a life growing within her again.

_What if it isn't my fault but Ragnar's? _She thought to herself, her hand tracing the shape of the Ingwaz on the Priest's forehead, "What line will you begin with your promised child, with your son?" She asked the sleeping man, "And with what woman?"

Temptation, mixed with her jealousy, seized her and she leaned in, her eyes fluttering shut as her lips pressed against his. She pulled back slowly, lingering above him, her lips tingling with life. Her kiss had stirred the Priest and his dark eyes slowly awoke from sleep.

"Lagertha?" He asked, his voice groggy.

She smiled, brushing back his curls and leaning against his chest as she lorded above him, "Yes?" Her soft voice purred. Slowly Athelstan sat up and, removing her arms from around him, moved away from her.

"You are someone else's." He said, more so for his benefit than hers.

"In our community, we grieve as one. If a wife's husband is a way, a close friend of the family will comfort her in a time of grief. Usually it is a woman, but sometimes it is a man." Lagertha explained, reaching for one of the furs to cover herself and the rejection she felt, "I have never understood why other cultures look down upon women that bring others to their bed, but allow men to do as they please."

"It is to be reassured that any child within them is their husbands and a rightful heir." Athelstan explained.

She looked sharply to him with narrowed eyes, "And that makes it right?"

Athelstan considered her question sincerely, "No. It is not right." He hung his head, feeling like he had let her down, "But," His eyes dared to meet hers, "I could not dishonor my God nor could I dishonor you in that way. It would be disrespectful to your virtue as a wife."

Lagertha accepted his words and pondered them, "Priest." Athelstan looked to her but she kept her face clear of any emotion, "You are a good man." He gave a small, closed-mouth smile, knowing she meant what she had said.

"Will you lay back down? You need your rest." Lagertha requested, her voice motheringly. Athelstan did as he was told.

Once she was satisfied that he was comfortable, she moved back to her side of the bed.

Athelstan watched as she lay on her side, with her back to him. She was walling herself off to mourn.

"It might not be much comfort now, but, in the Church, we believe everything happens for a reason, that God has a reason for everything He allows to happen." He said softly, his voice echoing slightly in the empty room.

He heard a small chortle come from the woman lying next to him as she moved to turn, "So your god destined my daughter to die?" She asked, her eyes raw with tears.

All the Priest could do was shrug, "His ways are higher than ours."

"I do not believe in a fate dictated by gods." Lagertha said, her tone harsh as she wrapped herself around her pillow.

Athelstan sat up and looked to her, "Ragnar told me of the all-knowing goddess, Vor, and Frigg, wife of Odin, who knows the fate of all."

"Knowing all is not the same as directing our destinies. Though they can intervene in our lives, I do not believe they hold complete power over our fates." Lagertha shifted to her back, her eyes gazing at the dark ceiling, "In truth, I believe the gods are jealous of us."

"Why do you say that?" Athelstan lay back down and tilted his head, awaiting her answer as he scrutinized her words.

She nodded, her eyes still lingering away from his, "We have but a short time on Midgard. Like them, we know that our lives will come to an end at one point but, unlike them, our years are short and we do not know how our story ends. It makes everything more valuable: love, family, wealth. They are jealous that we dictate our own paths and that our lives are not written down like theirs; they know exactly how their end will come and we do not. That gives us a certain freedom they will never know."

"That is not what Ragnar believes." Athelstan answered, shifting the furs in search of warmth against the cool night air.

"Then it is a good thing I am not Ragnar." Lagertha countered, "For you would truly be embarrassed to be in this bed." Athelstan couldn't help but smile at her wit.

Lagertha sighed, her eyes shifting through the dark room to the Priest, "Gyda chose to sacrifice her life in favor of saving yours." That caused him to visibly tense, "She asked me to look after you and make sure you got better."

After a while, Athelstan spoke, "I continue to be the reason you lose children." Guilt for the loss of Gyda consumed him. If he had been more careful and not gotten sick, she would still be here. Even apart from the loss of the innocent girl, in the village's eyes, he was the cause for Lagertha's infertility. He heard the whispers and knew the hate people had for him at causing their great Lady pain.

Lagertha sat up, her eyes harsh, "You are not the cause of my problems."

"Am I not?" He asked with depressed eyes.

Her face warmed as her anger grew, "You are _not_." She reaffirmed, drawing her knees up and tucking them under her chin, "If anything, it is my fault." Athelstan looked to her, confused.

"Stress has entered our marriage bed." Lagertha explained, "Stress for the raids, for the village…for…" She looked down, pulling at a loose thread on her gown as her own depression took hold, "For our inability to conceive. It pulls us apart and destroys the love we once shared. We have not…been together…for months now. "

Athelstan moved closer to her, taking her hands into his, "Everything will be alright." He said, wishing to bring her comfort.

Lagertha shook her head, fighting back the tears. He gently took hold of her chin and forced her to look at him, "It will be."

"He will find someone else to give him sons." She said, shifting her eyes from his compassionate eyes. The last thing she needed was pity.

"His heart belongs to you." Athelstan stated defiantly.

Tears streamed down from her eyes as guilt pooled with in her. She knew this was all her fault because she had considered tricking her husband and harming someone she loved.

"When I suffered the loss of my second son," She said, her words coming out on their own accord, "I thought about seducing you to share more than just my bed that night."

Athelstan pulled back, breaking contact with her, as if her words had burned him, "W-what?"

She wiped at her raw eyes, her guilt weighing her down, "I…I was going to manipulate you to lie with me and conceive another child." With the truth revealed, she felt a weight lifted off her heart.

Athelstan moved further away, his eyes nervously shifting around the bed, "What?" He whispered again.

Lagertha winced, knowing she had broken his trust by lying to him that night and revealing the truth now when it was too late, "I figured if I got pregnant that night, I could convince everyone else to keep quiet and possibly pass the child off as Ragnar's. If not, I could say that I was visited by a god to give Ragnar the sons he seeks."

The secret had weighed heavy on her for the last few days as she watched him suffer from the plague; she had believed it to be the gods' justice for her thoughts of besmirching Athelstan's name to meet her own needs. He was such a good man, more than just his god was looking out for him.

Athelstan's chest rose and fell rapidly as he took in her words, never had he felt so betrayed. Was her friendship a trick to get him into bed to conceive a child? Was she telling him the truth now because she was hoping he would go along with it out of pity? Was she trying to manipulate him?

He closed his eyes and asked for forgiveness. He had given into his flesh, more than just once, and was now facing the consequences of his sin. It felt worse than denying Him before the temple keeper.

His eyes quickly met hers and she flinched, seeing the pain she had caused, "Was…was that your plan all the way along?"

"I only considered the idea briefly, it has not been my plan all along I was just…I was desperate." Lagertha met his eyes, wanting him to know she was being honest, "I did not plan to act on it. I tell you now only because I cannot handle the guilt anymore with what the Seer has predicted. I do not want my actions to affect your own path."

Athelstan nodded absentmindedly, considering her words. Lagertha watched him, letting him think.

"I forgive you." His voice was quiet and dry, she wasn't sure she had heard him right.

"W-what?" She asked.

He looked up to her, letting her know he meant it, "I forgive you. I trust what you say and I forgive you."

Another weight was lifted from her heart and she was reminded of the carefree nature of youth and the simpleness of solving squabbles then. His forgiveness was like a breath of fresh air from her girlhood.

"I am tired." His voice was weary as he laid back down among the furs. Lagertha followed suite, a million questions plaguing her.

"Does it bother you? What the Seer said?" She asked, finding peace within his forgiveness.

"I don't believe in mushroom induced prophecies." His tone was harsher than he had meant it to be, but he didn't apologize, "I told you, there was nothing I needed from Freyja." The comfort she had found was gone in an instant.

The silence that grew after his statement was unbearable to Lagertha, "You said you forgave me." She stated, turning her head to the side so she could see him. Desperately, she wanted to enjoy the pleasure of the mercy he had offered her once more.

"And I do." Athelstan replied, keeping his back to her, "But I need time to let go of my anger. I don't like that you thought of using our friendship against me."

"But I didn't and you said you forgave me." Lagertha repeated, wishing he would turn around to look at her, "I thought Christians were supposed to be more loving and patient than us savage pagans." She seethed.

He cast a glance over his shoulder, "I am still a man with human faults." They locked eyes, willing the other one to drop the contact first.

Lagertha gave in first, needing her friend more than a victory. Of course, the instant she bowed, Athelstan's heart went out to her and he regretted his selfish words.

"I am sorry. You have been through enough than your fair share today without me causing you anymore pain." Athelstan turned to face her, his eyes seeking her forgiveness this time. She nodded and mirrored his action, turning to face him. They lay quiet for a while, comfortable in the silence.

"Have you ever lost someone before?" She asked.

Athelstan nodded, "I lost all those I had grown up with in the monastery."

Lagertha returned the gesture, trying to conceal her grimace when she remembered their bodies hanging in the village square. She couldn't imagine what he must have felt walking by them; people that he had loved and known his entire life left empty and abused.

He could easily join in her sorrow of the night. Which is exactly what he did.

For that long autumn night, Athelstan was there to listen to her stories of Gyda and to holder her hand when she cried. He found comfort in taking care of her and being needed.

When dawn started to brake and paint the mountains in a rainbow of colors, Athelstan lay on his back with his eyes wide open. Lagertha had fallen asleep not an hour before and had curled herself around his side, her ear resting atop his heart.

With one arm tucked behind his head and the other rubbing comforting circles into her back, he let his thoughts wander.

His dark eyes shifted to look at her face, which was peaceful in sleep, "Father, you are great and know all…" He prayed, brushing the loose tresses from her face, "Though she is not of our way or Church, do not cause her anymore pain. She has suffered enough for three lifetimes." He continued to stroke her hair and she sighed in her sleep, "Let Ragnar come back and fill her heart, let her know the joy of children once more. I know I have failed you in more ways than one and you have no right to listen to my prayer. I have denied you, accepted the ways of pagans, lusted after another's wife and shared her bed, but, please, spare her. Let me take her hardships upon myself. I will bear any punishment you have assigned to her atop my own justly deserved ones just…just shine your face upon her and bring her peace once again. Amen." As he spoke, his breathing grew even and, when he had finished, he had drifted off to sleep as the sun announced the start of a new day.

Lagertha, who was not really asleep but simply finding comfort in the rhythmic beats of his heart, smiled.

_You are a great man indeed, _she thought snuggling into the crook of his arm and finally finding the rest she sought.

XxX


	4. Stolen Hearts

XxX

Athelstan stood by Lagertha, his eyes never leaving her face. Her frustrated sigh was the exact opposite of her blank face, "I am fine."

"Are you sure?" He whispered back, "We don't need to be here."

"I am the wife of the Earl, I need to be here." She answered, her head high and shoulders proud. Athelstan knew she was being strong and she wouldn't back down as she faced the woman who Ragnar had taken to bed in her place.

Athelstan looked back to the arriving ships as they docked. As the Lady of Götaland was helped from the boat, the Priest's eyes grew. Instantly, he looked to Lagertha.

If he didn't know her like he did, she would have appeared perfectly alright to the untrained eye. But he did and he saw the tension etched in her face.

"She's…pregnant." Athelstan noted, turning to face forward. If Lagertha would hold to her façade of strength, then he needed to follow suite.

"Very good, Priest, and do you know the difference between a boy and girl as well?" She answered cheekily, "Or perhaps what caused her predicament?" Her face remained smooth but her eyes sparkled with mirth. Athelstan couldn't help but grin. How she could be so easy going in a time like this amazed him.

Ragnar bounced with anticipation, his eyes nervously shifting between his wife and the woman pregnant with his child while his hand tapped against his mouth.

"Princess Aslaug." Ragnar stepped forward in greeting, "Welcome to my village. This is my wife, Lagertha and my son, Bjorn, who you have met before."

Aslaug looked to each in turn, a smile on her face, "It is a pleasure to meet you all. It is good to see you again, Bjorn." She leaned down to meet his eye level, "Do you remember me?"

Bjorn, who was clenching his fists to his side and narrowing his eyes, nodded, "I remember you." The Princess was not ignorant enough for his cool welcome to go unnoticed. She stood back up and turned to Lagertha. Athelstan felt a shutter go up his spine.

"You must be the legendary Lagertha, it is an honor to meet you." Aslaug bowed her head, her hand resting on her protruding stomach. The way she looked at Lagertha, her eyes practically boasting that she was pregnant, made Athelstan clench his hands into a protective fist like Bjorn.

Lagertha inclined her head in respect, "The pleasure is mine." The Princess smirked, her hand gently rubbing the top of her stomach.

To say the next few days were tense was a lie. With each day, Athelstan saw the toll it took on Lagertha as she watched Aslaug walk around the village pregnant.

The spark finally caught on Thor's Day at dinner. Athelstan sat next to Bjorn, across the table from the trio. He had kept close to Lagertha all week, standing guard almost, to ensure that the Princess didn't try to say anything scaring to his Lady.

Ragnar leaned close to his wife, who sat very stiffly, "I need to talk with you Lagertha."

"What about, Ragnar?" She asked, placing her fork down and giving him her attention.

"About an…arrangement of sorts." His sky blue eyes looked back to the beautiful Princess, who smiled shyly. Athelstan narrowed his eyes; he didn't trust her.

"An arrangement?" Lagertha's voice was sharper than she meant and she winced, knowing she had given herself away.

"In some…villages…two wives is not an unusual arrangement." Ragnar shrugged, trying to make his tone light, "It would be good for the children if all of us worked things out."

Lagertha pulled back as if slapped, her voice shrill as she nodded to the woman on her husband's right, "Children? You plan on having more with her?" Her walls had come crashing down and she didn't seem to care; she had taken all she could.

Aslaug leaned forward to give her opinion, her hands on her large stomach, "In my village, many families live that way."

Lagertha turned her furious eyes onto the Princess, "That is _your _village, not mine." She seethed. Athelstan pulled back, his eyes wide.

Abruptly, Lagertha stood and stormed from the hall. All the Priest could do was watch her go. He had seen Lagertha angry, threatening even, but this was something completely different. She was a woman scorned and was going to see the village burned if she had her way.

"Athelstan?" His name drew him back to the present. Ragnar nodded after his wife, "Go check on her. She listens to you." The Priest stood and did as he was told.

It didn't take him long to find her. She sat on the wet sand, where Gyda's pyre had been, with her arms wrapped around her leg to protect herself from the cold. Athelstan shifted the cloak he wore off his shoulders and made his way to her.

"It is nearing winter; you should not be out here." He said, draping the thick material over her shoulders. She accepted it, but remained quiet.

He sat down next to her in the wet sand, mirroring her posture, "Will you come back?"

"I can't sit there and be mocked by them." Her voice was venom.

"Will you at least go inside? I will not ask you to return to the table." He reworded, his tone gentle as he took over her role of caregiver. She nodded, her eyes looking distantly out over the water. Athelstan stood and offered her his hand, coaxing her to stand up.

Quietly, they made their way back to the hall and snuck into her room. Lagertha dropped the cloak he had brought on the floor and went to her vanity. She viciously pulled at her hair, ripping out the pins and ties, and grabbed her brush to tear at her beautiful tresses.

"Let me." Athelstan reached out, stopping her hand. She looked up to him with tear stained eyes. She relinquished control and dropped her hands to her lap. He carefully separated the layers of her golden locks and began to caringly run the brush through them.

"You are so gentle. Where did you learn to brush a woman's hair?" Lagertha met the eyes of his reflection.

Athelstan smiled as he continued his work, "When you and Ragnar were away, Gyda would insist each day that I help her figure out how to recreated the way you do your hair." He smiled at the memory, "We would brush her hair and braid it, redoing it each time we messed up. I got quite good at it by the time you returned."

Tears welled within the mother's eyes, "My mother was the one that taught me how to do my hair, I should have done the same for Gyda."

"You taught her how to heal and be an amazingly strong and compassionate young lady. Her short life meant more to those around her than my long one." The Priest replied.

"I wouldn't say that." Lagertha said, reaching for a small perfume bottle to tinker with. A comfortable silence grew around them as Athelstan continued to brush and Lagertha pondered her thoughts.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Lagertha asked, looking at his reflection. Athelstan stopped mid-brush and looked to her. She dropped her head in shame, "Ragnar has been keeping the Princess company the last few nights."

Athelstan nodded as he placed the brush down and picked up a string to tie her hair back with, "If it helps, you are much more…womanly…than her. Ragnar will remember he loves you and return to your bed." He blushed as he spoke.

"Yes, but she is the one who carries his child." She reminded him.

Once he had finished her braid, he knelt down next to her stool, "But you are still the woman who holds Ragnar's heart." A twinge of envy consumed him, which he quickly quenched.

"But I do not hold his sons and, with that ability gone, I will lose his heart." She stood, brushing past him, and made her way to the bed. Athelstan remained where he was, watching her fluid movements.

"I am considering leaving." She said, pulling back the furs.

Athelstan stood up sharply, "What? You—you can't."

She looked to him with a raised brow, "I can do as I please. I am a free woman."

"But what about Ragnar or Bjorn? Or…or the village?" Athelstan hurried to ask, following her towards the bed and making sure he was between her and the door.

She sat down on the bed and began the process of pulling off her jewelry, "They will be fine without me." Athelstan knelt down on the other side, creating an impression that let her know he was there.

As he settled into his side, he leaned against the headboard and smoothed out the pelts, "And…what about me?"

She instantly stopped, her hand dangling her necklace above the side table. He tilted his head, studying her. She had taken everything off – her bracelets, earrings, and larger necklace – but kept the simple amber pendant on that he had given her. He couldn't help brighten; maybe he did have a chance at convincing her to stay.

"I might be Ragnar's man, but you are the one that keeps me going. You are my only true friend, Lagertha. I don't know what I would do without you." He meant what he said and she knew it.

She sat perfectly still. He pulled back and sunk down into the bed, having thought his words had no effect on her. If only he had known how deeply it had touched her, how the pain at having to leaving him shattered her heart completely and made her rethink everything.

Lagertha leaned over and blew the candle out, refusing to show him any more of her tears.

That night they lay on opposite sides, neither sleeping for fear that the other would leave. Eventually, though, exhaustion overtook the Priest and he feel into a deep sleep. Lagertha stirred then, making sure he was asleep, before moving out of the bed. Her bare feet padded against the cool floor as she gathered her things.

She had to go for herself. If she stayed here, she wouldn't be the same strong woman she used to be. She would be the second wife, demoted in the eyes of the people and a mockery to other tribes. Though the thought of leaving Athelstan, her most beloved friend, behind tore her heart, she couldn't stay here and watch Ragnar have sons with the Princess.

The sun was just starting to awaken when she had finished dressing and collecting the things she wished to take. She left all of her unneeded trinkets behind, except the pedant Athelstan had given her and a pair of pearl earrings Gyda had made her.

Quietly, she made her way back to the bed. Kneeling on the bed, Lagertha reached over to brush back the curls of the sleeping man and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead. Gently she rested her head against his, "You deserve a blessed life. I will always remember you and pray to the gods often for you."

With her pack swung over her shoulder, she cast one last look into the room and the light that trickled in and illuminated the man on the bed, "Be well."

And with that, she left.

XxX

"Lagertha! Lagertha!" A thundering voice echoed through the just stirring house. The Priest quickly sat up, startled from his rest.

Ragnar stormed into the room, throwing the door open violently, "Why are you in here?" He looked to him with narrowed eyes, "Where is Lagertha?"

Athelstan looked to the other side of the bed, only to discover it empty. Ragnar turned and stormed out, continuing his search.

"Ragnar!" Athelstan stumbled out of the bed, falling with a resounding thud. Ignoring the soon to be bruises, he rushed after his master, "Ragnar! What is wrong?" He demanded.

"Lagertha is missing. One of the servants said he saw her sneaking out in the early hours." Ragnar seethed over his shoulders, his steps harsh and determined, "If only the he had thought to stop her, the idiot." It took everything in the Priest to keep up with the Vikings long strides.

"What do you mean she is gone?" Athelstan asked, his head still groggy with sleep.

Ragnar turned sharply to him, "I meant she is _gone_, she isn't _here. _She _left._"

The Englishman dropped his head, unable to believe what he was hearing, "N-no she…she can't be."

"Well, she is." Ragnar turned on his heel and started to storm towards the door once more.

Anger bubbled within the Priest and he lashed out, "This is your fault."

Ragnar stopped in his tracks, "What did you say?" He looked to his steward with narrowed eyes. His shoulders were forward, as if he were preparing for war.

"If you hadn't let Aslaug stay, if you hadn't been going to her chambers and—and asking Lagertha to step down so you could take another wife, she would still be _here_." With each word he grew closer to the Earl, his eyes dark and angry.

Ragnar pulled back, caught off guard by the Priest's condemnation. Athelstan didn't wait to hear an excuse; he strode past the dumbfounded man and out the door.

Athelstan grabbed the first horse he came across and took off out of the village, pressing the mare to go as fast as she could. His breathe came out in white puffs and his lungs burned in the crisp morning air.

He had to get to the outskirts of town; he had to get there before she was gone forever. People hurried to get out of his way as he pushed the horse to go faster through town. Finally, he caught sight of an open carriage and a certain golden head of hair. He ran his horse to the front and came to a halt, forcing the stage to stop. The drive cursed at him to get out of the way but he saw no one but Lagertha.

"You left." He panted, trying to keep the horse from rearing.

Lagertha wouldn't meet his eye, "I had too." He jumped down, keeping himself in-between her and freedom.

"You could have woken me up to say goodbye." He seethed, his anger bubbling to the surface.

She flinched, still refusing to meet his hurt filled eyes, "If I had, I would have asked you to come with me, which I knew couldn't happen." The driver looked between the two, trying to guess their story. He knew her to be the great Lagertha, wife of Ragnar Lodbrok. Why was such a simple servant wielding so much power over her? Were they lovers? Rumors turned within his head and he thought of a good story to tell when he returned.

"So, you are leaving?" Athelstan said, his shoulders dropping dejectedly. He knew there was no stopping her. Lagertha was a determined woman and no one could change her mind once she had set it on an end goal.

Lagertha looked to him, her heart truly broken. The pain of loosing Gyda didn't compare to what she felt right then, in that moment. She reached to her braided hair and removed one of the beads from it, "Take this to remember me by." She offered the charm to him, which he accepted. He looked down to it, the beautifully twisted silver glistening in his dirt streaked hand.

"I will miss you, Priest." Lagertha leaned down and placed a chaste kiss to his head. The drive rose his brow; he would have a very interesting story indeed.

Athelstan looked up, his thoughts turning. Without a second's hesitation, he ripped the leather thong that held the gold cross to his wrist and handed it to her.

"I can't take that from you. It is your last piece of home." She tried to push it back but he insisted.

He took her other hand and covered the gift, "To remember me by."

She smiled and accepted the offer, "I'm not sure how I could forget a Christian like you." Athelstan smiled, watching as she loosened her shawl to tie the cross around her neck.

"There." Lagertha shifted the pendant so it lay next to the amber one, "You will always be close to my heart." She twisted the throng with the chain and pressed it to her chest.

Athelstan's eyes lit up, he was just about to reply when he saw two figures emerging over the far hill.

"Ragnar is coming." Athelstan warned. Lagertha looked over her shoulder.

She quickly took hold of his hand, getting him to link eyes with her, "Live well Athelstan, remember to keep the promises you have made to your friends and to be true to yourself." He nodded sadly, knowing this could be the last time he ever saw her.

Lagertha took hold of his chin, asking him to look at her, "I will miss you."

"I would go with you, if I could." He replied honestly, his eyes fighting the tears.

She rested her hand against his cheek, taking his face into memory, "I know you would." With that he stepped back, leaving room for Ragnar to step in. Lagertha continued to look at him while Ragnar took his anger out on her. In the end, though, even the great Ragnar failed, and lost his son as well as his wife that day.

Athelstan remained until long after the carriage was gone, knowing he had lost a large part of his heart that he was sure he would never find again.

"Why, God, do you bring someone into our lives just to steal them away? It would have been better if I had never come here in the first place. I would have been an empty man, still, but one who lived in blissful ignorance. Surly that is a better life than knowing what one is missing." With that he turned, remembering her last words and determining to live them out the best he could.

XxX

That had been four years ago. Four long years ago. Life had continued on, but they both felt the weight of the separation with each day that passed, for Time did not heal all wounds.

As Lagertha found another husband, Athelstan honed his skills and kept up the façade of living a Viking life. Though, one thing he never gave into.

"How can you bring _him _on the raid? He has never even bedded a slave, how can you expect him to kill a man?" Floki drunkenly slurred.

Athelstan smiled, looking into his drink and remembering his promise to Lagertha. He touched behind his left ear, where a tattoo of Ingwaz lie, and continued to the back of his head, where the charm Lagertha had given him all those years ago kept his long curls from his eyes.

He loved her, he decided, and though he would never be with her – whether because she was married to someone else or because of his Christian vows – he would continue to love her in secret and honor his promise to her.

"Shut up Floki." Ragnar cuffed the ship maker and made his way across the fire to Athelstan. He fell next to him, downing his horn, "Will you come?" He shifted his bright eyes to the Priest, "On the raid."

Athelstan rose his horn, "I will follow you."

"It is settled!" Ragnar clasped his man on the shoulders, "We leave tomorrow!"

XxX

Four years, it had been four years since she had last seen the Priest and she still ached for his friendship.

As she nursed her black, swollen eye, she realized what she had truly left behind. For years, she had been thinking about how her life would have been different if she had stayed, or even if she and Bjorn had asked Athelstan to come with them.

_It does not do well to dwell on the past, _she thought, picking at the food on her plate. Sometimes she played with the what if of her life because that was all she had to hold onto.

What if Athelstan had come with them?

She wouldn't be in a loveless marriage with Earl Sigvard; she wouldn't be abused and manipulated each and every week. Though she wasn't sure Athelstan would have married her, she trusted he would have protected Bjorn and cherished him like a son, unlike the Earl of Hedeby. He would have been a great father.

Athelstan also would have never laid a hand on her; he would have respected her and treasured her like her father had. Bjorn and him would have built a beautiful house in the countryside by the ocean. They would farm once again, with equal amounts of sons and daughters running around, for she knew the Priest wouldn't care what the child was as long as they were healthy. Power and name didn't matter to him, he would love them all just the same.

If Athelstan would have come, Sigvard would never have shown interest in her and she wouldn't have had to accept his offer of marriage so she and Bjorn could survive the harsh winter two years ago.

Her eyes opened in revelation: she had fallen in love with the Priest. A man she hadn't seen in four years had stolen her heart.

She had thought if she stayed with Ragnar that she would have lost who she was. But the opposite was true; leaving had broken her fighting spirit and lost her the only true friend she had.

When she brought troops to Ragnar's aid, she hadn't even been hurt by the sight of the once again pregnant Aslaug. Her thoughts had gone straight to Athelstan and remained there, especially when she found out he had stayed behind in England with King Horak. She was more upset at the fact that Athelstan wasn't there than the sight of her former husband surrounded by sons the Princess had been able to given him.

Her heart was tied to the Priest's, and only now did she realize she missed him not just as a friend but as the lover of his soul.

_Whose god was to blame for this change of events, _she thought, fondly remembering her defense against the gods interventions in their lives to Athelstan years ago. Maybe she had been wrong. Gods did love to play with the mortals of Midgard, maybe they had decided to bind a Norse maiden to a Christian monk to see what would transpire.

She shook her head at the word maiden, for she was anything but. A woman well into her twenty-ninth year that was on her second husband; she was anything but virtuous.

_Athelstan wouldn't have cared though; _she smiled. From what she had learned about the English religion, they weren't fond of their pagan ways. But Athelstan was different.

He had loved her and cared for her, been there for her through everything. He had seen her both bloody from battle and dressed like a Queen; the respect his eyes held when they lingered on her never changed. Oh, how she longed to see him again. Even if it were just in her dreams.

Now, back in Hedeby without Bjorn, her dreams were all that kept her going each day.

"And look at my wife, how beautiful she is." Sigvard announced to the hall, "Look at her breasts, more beautiful than Freyja's." Lagertha tensed as those around the hall laughed, her hand instinctively reached for her amber stone, and the cross she had placed alongside it, for comfort.

It was the last thing she had of him. Sigvard had continued to bring her larger gems to replace the simple ones she wore but she always turned him down. And that made him angry, just like her clinging to it now infuriated him. She had never told him where it had come from and she didn't plan too; Ragnar didn't even know where the amber pendant had come from.

It was something between her and the Priest alone.

"Would you like to see?" Sigvard reached for her and torn her dress, "Do you still seek to be in Ragnar's bed? _I _was the one that saved you, whore, he cast you aside like the nothing you are." He taunted and that set her off; she wasn't nothing. Athelstan had made sure she had known that long ago.

Without thinking, she found her knife and plunged it into his eye. He screamed in pain.

"No." She hissed through clenched teeth, driving the knife in deeper, "I wish to be in the Priest's." Lagertha pulled out the weapon, standing triumphantly as he fell to the ground. One of Sigvard's men took up his sword and came at her. She stood tall, preferring death to being the wife of this man any longer.

Raising his sword he swung off the Earl's head, which bound across the wall.

"All hail, Earl Lagertha." He stuck his chin out, encouraging other to join him, which they did.

The bloody knife still in hand, she tensed. Her eyes looked to the West. Something was terribly wrong.

A searing pain erupted in her wrists; she dropped the knife and yelped. She frantically brushed at the skin, trying to escape the drilling agony.

"Lady Lagertha, are you alright?" Every man in the hall jumped to attention, concern for their new Earl etched into their face.

She looked to the West as the pain subsided, something was terribly wrong indeed.

XxX

Miles away, a cross was lifted with a bloody, abused man nailed too it. The man didn't know that the Viking lass, who his soul had bond itself too, joined in his suffering as well.

His breathing was ragged and blood ran down his brow, obscuring his vision. Never had he felt such physical pain before. Ever part of him ached and he wished for a quicker death. If he knew that Lagertha shared his pain, he would have prayed harder for it to end soon.

"Lo...Lord…I kn-know your…your pain." He wheezed, so far up that none of the men could hear his words, "J-just are your-your…" Athelstan pushed up, the agonizing pain shooting up through his legs and ripping at his lungs as he gasped, "Punishments." He exhaled like a prayer.

"What are you doing to this man?" Coming in and out of consciousness, Athelstan caught the distant echo of the voice. He tried to lift his head but was too weak.

"Sire…he is a pagan…"

Athelstan shook his head, trying to answer the unasked question. He wasn't a pagan, he just lived with them.

"Let him down. He may prove useful." And that was all he caught before he slipped into the darkness.

XxX

"Collect our riders, we leave for Ragnar's village at day break." Lagertha called, readying her armor hours before they were set to leave.

"My Lady, he has won his village already. Surely nothing more can be wrong?" The man, who had killed Sigvard, stepped forward, speaking for the other warriors around her.

She tightened a strap, taking out her frustration on the piece, "Across the waters, on their raid. Something has gone wrong to a friend of mine." Lagertha looked up, her crystal eyes looking out over the ocean, "I know it."

She narrowed her eyes, praying Freyja would reveal more of Athelstan's fate to her. The only explanation she had come up with was that Freyja had joined their hearts, like Frigg did with each mother and her child, and was giving her the bad omen before it was too late for her to do something.

"We leave at dawn." Her eyes told the man not to question her again.

The man bowed his head in respect, "We will follow you." With that, the men took their leave.

Her hands were fisted by her sides, her body ready for a fight, "I am coming, Athelstan."

XxX

His dreams twisted around memories of Lagertha. Every time he had seen her, from the first to the last, cumulated in a made up memory of her running through a tall field of grass and looking back, bidding him to follower her as she laughed. She was dressed in a beautiful white dress with flowers woven into her hair. The sun shone on her hair, creating a halo around her head.

He reached out to catch her but his hand went right through her as if she were made of vapor. The color bled and the light disappeared, shocking him from the dream.

Athelstan shot straight up, sweat glistening on his face and bare torso. Instantly, he regretted the action as pain shot through his arms. He cried out, catching the attention of the attended outside the door. Athelstan looked at him wearily as he entered, his eyes savage as he tried to protect his bandaged wrists from the man.

"Sir, please let me have a look." The young servant knelt next to him, speaking the King's English. Hesitantly, Athelstan let him take it and remove the bandage.

"They will be painful for quite some time." He carefully changed both bandages and returned the hands to their owner, "Can you understand me?" He asked, his voice slow as if he were talking to a child.

"Quite well, indeed." Athelstan said, his eyes lingering on the man untrustingly, "Where are we? How did I get here?" He looked around the room, not recognizing it.

The man, who still looked quite surprised, stuttered, "In the palace of King Ecbert. He brought you hear after he found his soldiers crucifying you." Athelstan flinched; he had denied Christ thrice and suffered almost the same fate as Peter had for committing the same sin.

"I am not sure how well your wrists will heal, but you should be able to write again with a little practice. You may walk with a limp from now on, though." The man moved towards the end of the bed and pulled back the blanket to examine his feet. Athelstan cringed as he undid the blood stained bandages that had stuck to the wounds.

"We will just have to wait and see." The man smiled gently, his green eyes bright like a forest in summer, "Rest. I will return shortly with some food."

Athelstan nodded and lay down in the bed; his thoughts turning. What he wouldn't give to have Lagertha there for companionship, to brush back his curls and outline the pagan rune that had once graced his forehead like the oil cross had when he had become a monk. He was sealed both by God and the pagans.

Either way, he still missed his companion and would give anything to see her again.

It took weeks for him to be able to even get out of bed, and even longer to walk. The instant he could the attendant, who he learned was named John, had told him that King Ecbert wished to see him.

The meeting was to take place in his room, for the Priest's comfort. John had helped him into a simple tunic and trousers, asking if he wanted him to get rid of the pagan clothes he had been brought to the castle in. Athelstan had picked up the discarded, bloody garments, unwilling to give them up just yet. John, who had gotten to know his story over the weeks, allowed him to keep them without judgment and even pointed out the jewelry that lay on the vanity.

John helped him to the mirror and showed him the bracelet and charm, "It is up to you if you wish to wear them." Athelstan nodded and reached out to the bracelet, which declared his status as a freeman. Next he untied his long curls that John had pulled back and reached for the charm. Twisting one of the strands, he slid the silver piece over it and secured it above his tattoo of Ingwaz.

He struggled to retie his tresses and John stepped in to help before leading him back to the table where King Ecbert would meet with him.

And that is where he sat, awaiting his fate, with the pain still throbbing in his wrists and feet. Though they had started to heal over, he could still see a thick outline of where the nails had pierced him.

He sighed, feeling torn once more between the two cultures and wondering if he would ever find common ground between them.

And wondering, more importantly, if he would ever get to see the beautiful shield maiden, who was an angel of God just as much as a goddess of the Vikings.

For she truly held his Christian heart captive, more so than either religion did.

XxX


	5. The Ties That Bind Us

XxX

She stood up, her back straight as she looked at the table, "We have to go back."

"Lagertha, we cannot go back. Not now. Winter is setting in." Ragnar explained. His former wife looked to him, her eyes dangerous as she played with her dagger.

"Lagertha." Ragnar leaned on the table, trying to be gentle, "Athelstan is most likely dead. No one survived the ambush."

She leaned across the table, her usual crystal eyes dark as she stabbed the knife into the table, "He is _not_ dead."

Ragnar leaned back, amused, with his arms crossed, "What makes you think that?"

"He didn't have the son prophesied to him." She replied hotly, her arms crossed defiantly as she mimicked his gesture.

"And how would you know that?" His heart turned cold, wanting to repay her for the harm she caused all those years ago, "You have not seen him in four years and some of the shield maidens that came back are pregnant." He smirked cruelly, gesturing to those that sat around the room, clearly with child. Ragnar knew what he said was a lie, but he said it to cause her pain. And it worked.

Her heart clenched but she fought back the pain in favor of anger. She looked to him sharply, "He is alive."

"Why can you not take comfort in the fact that he is dead and Freyja would have surely chosen him to sit at her table?" Ragnar offered, "He is probably keeping Gyda company."

Lagertha grew angrier, a shadow casting over her shadow as she leaned in further, "He is _not _dead." Never had Ragnar seen her so wrath filled, and he had known her for her entire life.

He tossed his arms up in defeated, "Alright, the Priest still lives. There. Satisfied?" Lagertha stood back and nodded, clearly satisfied.

Her eye caught Bjorn, who looked equally pleased. Her son was about to go into his fifteenth year and, with each day, he looked more and more like Ragnar, but his heart remained true to his mother's.

"That still does not change our decision. We leave in spring and not a day sooner." King Horak stood, looking at the subjects, "We cannot risk our men or our ships. Not for a slave that you have a soft spot for. And a Christian at that." He mocked, his men joining in, "The decision is final."

Lagertha's heart sunk at the news and Bjorn went to her then, "Do not worry, Mother. We will be reunited with Athelstan next spring." He whispered. Bjorn leaned in closer, so only she would hear his next words, "Athelstan would never touch one of Horak or Ragnar's whores, you know that. He has not had his promise son and he will return to us." Ragnar watched, curious what his son was whispering to her.

She patted his hand, finding comfort in his words, "Very well, my son." She turned back to the others, "We will wait for spring and, the day after the first bud blooms, we leave."

That night, Lagertha lay alone in her bed. Her hand clung to her pendants as she cried. And that is how she willed away the winter; playing a façade of strength during the day for her people and falling apart at night when she was alone. When she had run out of tears, she spent each night lying awake, remembering what it had been like to see the Priest across the bed from her all those years ago.

And that is how she would remain until she was reunited with the one her soul was tied too.

XxX

Athelstan sat at his desk, translating the last of the myth he was working on. To any onlookers, he would have appeared like a Priest at work, writing up yet another copy of John. His cloths were that of a poor monk, the small golden cross he wore solidified the idea, but the small tattoo behind his ear and the silver clasp in his hair above the rune hinted at a story no one could guess.

He shifted the blanket around his shoulders as he powdered the wet ink.

Stories of Minerva, Venus and Diane filled his every day and, yet, all he saw was Lagertha. In ever stroke of Athena's sword, every seducing look of Aphrodite, every oath of Diane, he saw her.

A knock sounded on his door and he quickly stowed his work, "Come in." He bid.

John poked his head in, "The King's guests are here." Athelstan nodded, standing to place the blanket on the bed.

"Who are we keeping company with this evening?" Athelstan looked to John, who had become a sort of companion in place of Lagertha's absence. Though, no one could truly replace the Norse shield maiden.

"Princess Kwenthrith and her men." John visibly cringed at the name, "She seeks King Ecbert's help in securing the throne of Mercia."

Athelstan rose a brow, the physician shutter didn't go unnoticed, "What is the Princess like?"

John wrinkled his nose, "Honestly?" The Priest nodded, "Vial."

"Surely she is not that bad." Athelstan brought his hands together, taking care to make sure his sleeves were pulled over his scars. He looked to the window as the smell of fresh cherry blossoms and evergreen filled his nose. His eyes fluttered closed as he remembered Lagertha and how she always gave off a fragrance of spring. He couldn't go anywhere, do anything, without remembering her these days.

He saw her in the freshly fallen snow, in the beauty of the church's stain glass, in the gentleness of a deer with her fawn.

"She is spoiled and has never heard the word no." John replied, bringing Athelstan back to England and showing no remorse for his disrespectful words of the Princess, "She is known to take anyone and everything to…her-her bed." John colored. Athelstan smiled, liking the feel of not being the only conservative in the castle, "I would say as much to her face, but I value my head."

Athelstan laughed lightly, "And I mine."

John stopped with his hand on the door to the hall, "Then let us not speak of the Princess any longer." The two shared one last laugh before entering the hall.

Athelstan followed John to their usual place at the table and took his seat, awaiting the announcement of royalty. Soon enough, it came and the pair entered.

Wrinkling his nose, he looked to Princess Kwenthrith as she was introduced to the house of King Ecbert.

Her hair was dark, as were her eyes, and her skin was deathly pale. She looked like a wild animal waiting to feast on anything she could get her hands on. With each man her eyes scanned over, he could see the lust deepen in her eyes. John's description had not been far off at all.

"This is John, the court physician." King Ecbert gestured to the man next to Athelstan, who inclined his head in respect. The Princess licked her lips and John winced.

"The man next to him is Athelstan; he is a monk from the Northumbria monastery." King Ecbert explained.

Princess Kwenthrith rose a brow, intrigued, "Wasn't that monastery sacked and destroyed by Northmen?"

"Indeed." King Ecbert stood with his hands behind his back, his head raised proudly, "Athelstan was actually captured by them and has been living among the Northmen these last five years. He…escaped…on their last raid."

A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth, "Oh?" Her teeth gently bit into her lower lip, "I have heard Northmen are quite…intriguing…in the ways that they live."

"I am sure Athelstan would be more than pleased to share his stories with you, but, for now, let us start our meal." King Ecbert gestured to the table, where a servant had pulled out a chair for the Princess. Athelstan gave a prayer of thanks that she wasn't seated next to him.

The meal passed on with seemingly idle chatter, but Athelstan could feel her gaze on him.

John had said Princess Kwenthrith was a woman of the flesh and Athelstan had heard the whispers of the servants and their thoughts on the Northmen; everyone knew that both women and men were open about their bodies in the upper pagan lands. The rumors spread like wild fire and no one could resist talking about the scandalous ways of the Northmen.

"Your Priest has yet to entertain us with any stories of the Northmen." Princess Kwenthrith announced. She leaned on the table, popping grapes into her mouth, "Do tell us, what are the Northmens' women like? I have heard that they are quite different than our kind; do tell us, what do you think?"

Athelstan placed his fork down, his eyes lingering on his plate as his unwillingness to speak grew, "They live hard lives in their land. Women know how to work and are accustomed to back breaking labor." He forced out, "They work just as hard as the men and are allowed almost equal right to them." His thoughts recalled Lagertha's complaint about woman being looked down upon for acting on the law granting them the right to share their bed. However, he refused to share anything about his Lady with the girl before him.

"I heard they are quite beautiful." The Princess leaned even farther forward, pursing her blood red lips in intrigue.

Athelstan took a steady breath in and exhaled it slowly, trying to choose his words, "They are fairer than the women here. Their hair is light and their eyes are bright, some blue, others grey. They look quite different than the women here, and not in a bad way." He looked up to her, seeing her dark features once again. She narrowed her eyes, testing to see if what he said was meant to be a backhanded statement.

She smirked, enjoying their little game. The Princess leaned forward, her voice huskie, "Are they as good in bed as English women?" King Ecbert choked on his wine. The Princess looked to him from the corner of her eye; her smile sultry.

"I wouldn't know that. I have never shared a bed with an English woman or a Norse one." Athelstan knew it was bad to lie, especially as a priest, but he didn't care. He refused to share his memories of Lagertha with anyone, especially the whore before him.

The Princess leaned back, her eyes drilling into his, and toasted her chalice, "Maybe we need to change that."

Athelstan couldn't help the small smile that graced his face, "I don't think it needs to change anytime soon. Not with the present company, at least." He flitted his brown eyes to the dark abyss of hers; letting her know his wit was greater. He saw the wrath stirring within them and the challenge he hadn't meant to create; he knew then she was going to be a bother for the rest of her stay in Wessex.

"What is that tattoo you have? I have never seen a man of cloth with that sign before, especially inked to his skin." She stirred her drink, feigning disinterest. Instinctively, he reached up and covered the rune with his hand.

"What is it, Priest?" She looked to him smugly.

"It is a rune called Ingwaz." He let his eyes flutter closed, feeling like he was cornered.

"And…" She smirked, relishing his weakness, "What does that mean?"

"It is for the Norse god Ing. It means the beginning of something." He gave one meaning, feeling that would be enough, but his flushed face let them know he wasn't telling them everything. Thankfully, King Ecbert intervened and suggested turning in for the night.

For the first time in years, Athelstan remembered what the Seer had claimed to see in his future. A _child._ The rune he had tattooed behind his ear Lagertha had also said meant fertility. A beginning and fertility did seem to point to only one thing: a babe.

The Priest stood as the King did and filed out of the room with the rest of the guests, his mind still turning.

The pagan prophecy threw him into another war between the two cultures. His vows as a Christian were to stay pure, whereas he was held to no such standard in the Scandinavian village. Still, he had yet to figure out why God had destroyed his peaceful life at the monastery and taken him into pagan lands. Was it to bring His word to the ends of the world or was He freeing him from his vows? Could it, possibly, be both?

While Athelstan had been in service to the king, he had taken the time away from the Roman myths to study the Letters. The Apostles didn't condemn marriage; they celebrated it as a reflection of the early Church's relationship with the Christ, just like Athelstan had explained to Lagertha.

Though Athelstan had come to understand marriage as a gift from God, and the union between men and woman to be a mysterious blessing, he had still taken his vows of chastity.

The other problem was that Lagertha was a world away and married to another man, if rumors were to be trusted.

He sighed and continued down the hall, his head down in deep thought.

"Priest?" A sickening voice called.

He stopped and looked up, wishing he hadn't, "Princess Kwenthrith, I hope you enjoy your evening." He wished with a nod of his head.

"Oh…I plan to…" She pushed off the wall and sauntered towards him, she reached out and took his cross into her hand. He stood there with his hands together, putting up with her scrutiny, "Would you care to join me?" Her dark eyes lingered on his face.

"No, I best be getting back to my studies." Athelstan sidestepped, forcing her to release her grasp, "I am quite sure there are others who would be more than happy to keep you company. Sadly, I am not one of them." His tact was spot on and his voice gave away no hint of his disgust.

"No?" Her voice was shrill as her face pinched in an unattractive way. He couldn't help but smile; John had said she hadn't ever heard the word no before, "I have never heard of a priest actually keeping his vows." He winced, having remembered the previous debate he had been having with himself.

"No one ever says _no_ to me." She crossed her arms, pouting like a spoiled child trying to get her way.

"There is a time for everything." He recited the Ecclesiastes verse from memory, enjoying the dumbfounded look on her skeleton thin face, "Good night, Princess Kwenthrith." Athelstan inclined his head once more and began to walk away.

"There is someone else." She called after him.

He stopped, but refused to give her the honor of turning to face her, "No, just a promise."

She huffed and he could imagine her rolling her eyes. He continued on without another word; letting her determine if the promise was to God or another.

That night, as he lay in bed, he let his thoughts wander to the beauty that was across the ocean. He smiled into the dark, giving into the temptations of the night, and turned over to face what he had always thought of as her side of the bed.

His eyes fluttered closed with the memories and he dreamed of her crossing the ocean to find him.

XxX

Lagertha held onto the rope, dangling her body above the tempest sea. Her hair danced across her face and the waves dusted her with its salt as they broke, yet she took no notice.

"Any sign of England yet?" Bjorn called from his oaring position.

Lagertha strained her eyes and her heart fell, "No." Then, the world bowed and a hazy strip appeared. Her pulse raced, "I see it! I see land!" Her announcement sent those at the oars into a frenzy and they pushed with all their might; ready to be off the boat.

She leaned back, resting her cheek against the mass and clutching her simple necklace, "We're here."

XxX


	6. Broken Vows

XxX

Lagertha waited until the anchor had just settled before she jumped into the water and wadded to shore.

Bjorn watched in amusement before following his mother's lead. Ragnar leaned over his boat, his eyes wide at the pair.

"Get things ready and bring me my horse the instant you are docked." She called to the men, who rushed to follow orders.

"Lagertha, Lagertha!" Ragnar, who had had waited until they had dropped the plank because he was unwilling to suffer the chill of the ocean, hurried to catch up with the shield maiden.

She turned sharply, her eyes dangerous, "I waited until spring like Horak and you agreed to. We are here now and I plan to find the Priest." He reached for her hand but she violently pushed it away, "He lives, don't try and tell me otherwise."

"I was just going to suggest caution." He called after her as she stormed to the beach, "Maybe some tact, even." Bjorn walked past his father without a look and loyally followed his mother. Ragnar sighed, though the boy had been in Kattegat for almost a year now, he still favored Lagertha over his new family.

"Lagertha, stop." His voice was commanding and she instantly fell into the old habit of following his orders.

Ragnar moved to her, his eyes daggers, "We will stay here and make camp. I will send Torstein to bring news of our arrival. I had been discussing land with Ecbert before I had to leave. He is a reasonable man, I will inform him that we have returned, peacefully, and wish to continue our conversation." He whistled, calling his men forward, "Take news to the castle, tell them we wish an audience." Torstein mounted his horse and started to turn his head towards the castle.

"And a sign that the Priest still lives." Lagertha demanded. Torstein, who had been a friend of hers as along as Ragnar's, nodded in respect before taking off at a trot.

"Now, we wait." Ragnar smiled cheekily, his eyes playful.

Lagertha narrowed hers, "Yes. Set up camp." She ordered, turning away from him coldly and moving to her ship.

XxX

The door opened and Athelstan looked up, hurrying to covering his translations.

"Priest." The soldier declared, "You are needed in the hall right away."

He stood and followed the guard out, the scars on his feet causing him to limp ever so slightly and slow him.

"What is this about?" Athelstan asked, nerves prickling at his neck.

"Northmen have arrived." And that was all the soldier said until they got to the hall. Athelstan cautiously opened the door, his heart racing.

"Ahh, Athelstan, come in, come in." King Ecbert motioned.

"Northmen have arrived?" He wasted no time asking as he made his way into the room.

King Ecbert nodded, "Yes, I am sending Aethelwulf, as a sign of good will, and a group of our finest soldiers to…greet them."

"May I accompany you?" He looked to the crowned Prince. King Ecbert just laughed and walked over to the Priest, clasping him firmly on the shoulder.

"Soon enough, Priest. Aethelwulf is requesting Ragnar to come meet with us and you will see your captor then." King Ecbert leaned in, his beard scratching Athelstan's ear, "You are too precious to lose. If they see you, they might take you again."

"But I know them, I speak their native tongue, surely I should go just to make sure your message is translated correctly." Athelstan tried to keep his tone even, but it was hard. All he could think of was the possibility of Lagertha being on one of those ships. Maybe his dream had been more than just that.

"Aethelwulf is highly capable at persuading." King Ecbert turned back to his council, "But they did ask about you and require a sign of your life. Do you have anything that would be of value to them?" His heart raced even faster at the thought. Those who had ransacked his monastery and taken him captive cared enough to ask after his wellbeing, to see if he had survived the ambush.

Athelstan touched the rune behind his ear, moving up to feel the charm, as he thought. If it was just Ragnar he would not understand the significance of the bead, but there was one thing he would.

He pulled up his sleeve and pulled off the twisted gold bracelet, "Here. Take this. They will know what it means." Aethelwulf took the trinket, his eyes, lacking trust, looked to the Priest as he gave a quick nod.

"Very good. Ride at once." With that, King Ecbert dismissed the room and left.

Athelstan returned to his room to pace, ignoring the pain in his foot, his eyes scanning the hills for any sign of activity.

Though he was still torn over the gods fighting for his soul, he knew one thing for sure: he couldn't wait to go home.

XxX

Lagertha was the first to spot the riders and called out as such. She kept her dignity in place as she stepped up to meet them with King Horak and Ragnar beside her.

"I am Aethelwulf, the first son of King Ecbert of Wessex. I have come to relay his message. He wishes to meet with Ragnar and the others in power that come with him." Aethelwulf sat proudly on his horse, unable to keep the loathing from his eyes.

Lagertha stepped up then, "And what of our other request?"

The Prince looked down at the woman, surprise in his eyes at her bold, demanding tone. Without giving her the respect of a reply, he reached into his saddle bag and retrieved the bracelet, which he tossed to her.

Lagertha caught it, confusion knitted in her brow as she turned it around, "And what is this?"

Ragnar snatched it from her hand, looking at it, "I gave this to Athelstan after our last battle. He killed a man to save my life." Lagertha's eyes grew, knowing that the bracelet made the Priest a free man.

"Yes, your victim is alive. Now, what do you say to the meeting? We will trade you a hostage while you meet with the King." Aethelwulf continued, uninterested by their concern for the Christian monk. Though he kept a façade of calm, the nervous tick in his eye was impossible to conceal.

Ragnar stepped forward, enjoying the intimidation he cast over the young man, "Yes." With that, he turned and started back to camp as he placed the bracelet onto his wrist, "Tomorrow morning, sun rise. Till then, we grant you a safe return as a sign of our good will." Lagertha, keeping her face clear so as not to give anything else away, followed suite. The Prince nodded and turned without another word.

Not long after the Prince's departure, screams came over the hill and Lagertha and Ragnar took off to discover the cause. Dead soldiers lay scattered across the forest path when they arrived, Northmen calling out in triumph over their honor-less victory.

"What is this?" Lagertha demanded, her eyes livid.

Erlendur, the son of King Horak, came over splattered in blood, "They only needed one messenger to return. We let the Prince go," He gave a mock bow, "as a sign of _good will_."

"You foolish, stupid boy, that was our only hope of getting him back." The woman was angry and her hand on her sword hilt relayed as much.

"Why are you so adamant on the return of your slave?" He spat at her, his eyes full of fleshly desire, "You can take me to your bed instead of that Christian filth." The dagger was out and had slashed his face before even Lagertha knew what she had done.

"Get back to camp, the lot of you." Her chest rose and feel as anger filled her, they rushed to comply with the Earl's demands. Ragnar came to her then, his eyes downcast as he tried to placate her anger.

"That was our only hope." Anger turned to silent tears as she looked over the ridge to the castle peeking out between the trees.

Ragnar nodded, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Do not worry. We will get him back."

"What of the boy? He has surely sparked a war." She thrust her chin towards the retreating group, "We come in peace, yet Horak's kin will not leave without a war."

He leaned forward with a devilish smirk, "We will take care of them in time."

XxX

Athelstan cautiously walked among the dead on the field. His heart broke at the thought of losing so many of those he had come to think of as his own.

_This has to be King Horak's doing, _he thought to himself, _Ragnar wants land and nothing more. _

The Priest had already told King Ecbert of Ragnar's wishes of land and peace after only his son had arrived, but when they had seen the Northmen's army starting to stir at the mountains, he knew diplomacy had been cast aside.

"'Ere is another, still moving. Impale him through the heart." The voice caught Athelstan's attention and he sharply looked up. A familiar, bloody face looked to him from the ground.

"No, no! Stop!" Athelstan ran forward, his arms outstretched as he begged the man to hold his spear, "This is Rollo, brother of Ragnar. He holds value." His heart raced as King Ecbert turned his horse at the commotion to come over.

"His brother you say?" He asked, "Take him to Winchester." Athelstan moved as physicians rushed over to tend to the Viking.

King Ecbert remained where he was. The King's eyes looking to Athelstan as he said a prayer for the Northman, "You will get your wish, Priest. I am sending you to go speak with them. If we keep battling like this, we will have no men to face the strife between kingdoms any longer."

Athelstan stood dumbfounded by the news. He would get to see Ragnar, and Floki, and all the other men of the village. Nothing could have been sweeter news to his ears, or more uplifting to his heart, unless news of Lagertha's presence was made known.

"Come along so I may tell you what I am willing to offer them. A servant will fetch an ass for you to ride to their camp." King Ecbert called. Shaking his head, Athelstan cleared his enthusiasm and rushed after the King.

Not two hours later, he was riding easily along the forest path towards the Viking encampment on the sea.

_Invite them to come and talk about land and mercenaries, land and mercenaries, _he repeated exactly what King Ecbert required him to say over and over in his head. If he did not focus on something so trite, he would have pushed his donkey to the point of exhaustion in hopes of getting to the settlement sooner.

He heard the call go through the camp at the sight of the donkey and its rider. Athelstan's eyes lit up as the camp came into view through the fog. He was home.

People started gathering, their weapons at the ready. A woman dressed in full armor with her long golden hair braided to the side, slowly started to make her way through the crowd.

"Athelstan?" She halted where she was, her voice unbelieving and her grey eyes sparkled like Gyda's once had. The Priest smiled and gave her a nod of acknowledgment. That was all she needed before she took off at a run through the rest of the crowd. She stopped by his donkey, gently petting her nose.

"I did not expect to see you here, Lagertha." He said formally, trying to keep his torrent of emotions in check.

She pulled back and he instantly regretted coming off too cool, even the donkey looked to him as if he were stupid for what he said, "Would you have preferred Aslaug and her brood of sons?" She quipped, the hurt scratching at her eyes.

"No, I much prefer the sight of you." He replied, dismounting, "You don't complain as much and you are much more self-sufficient." He dropped with a thud, his smile cheeky, "Not to mention a much more handsome sight to gaze upon."

The shield maiden smiled and pulled her old friend into a hug, "It is good to see you." She whispered, enjoying the feel of him close in her arms.

He pulled back, knowing they had an audience, and took hold of her arms, "It is good to see you, too." Lagertha tilted her head, looking around the side of his head where the rune stood out. One thing in particular caught her eye though; it was the silver charm she had given him from her hair all those years ago.

Her smile erupted and her heart burst, "I see you kept your promise."

Athelstan nodded, his eyes gazing at her with admiration, "Only for you." A girlish blush spread across her face at the pure affection.

Ragnar and Horak pushed their way through the crowd, and, once the Earl had welcomed his friend back, led him to the tent of meeting where they discussed what the King had sent Athelstan to say.

The night had drawn by the time they had finished and Lagertha leaned against the post of the tent, gazing out across the ocean to the stars that reflected onto it, as the men finished their meal. That is where Athelstan found her when he took his leave.

"I wish to ride back to the gate with you, Priest." She said, her eyes sliding to his face. He gave a nod and they started towards her horse and his donkey. They rode on in silence for a while, enjoying the feel of the night and presence of one another.

Finally, it was Athelstan who broke the silence, "Bjorn has grown into an amazing man. You have done well."

Lagertha smiled at the compliment, her eyes dropping to the mane of her horse, "If only he had a good father to guide him the past few years, I fear all Sigvard did was instill hate in the boy where there once was love. He stays with Ragnar and Aslaug now." Athelstan rose a brow, but kept quiet on the matter.

Lagertha sighed, closing her eyes and pushing her face into the cool night air, "You have no idea how much I wished you would have come with us." His heart found peace within her words, "Or how relieved I was to see you ridding over the hill on that sad ass." She nodded to the donkey, who just shook her head. Lagertha reached over and gently petted her stiff mane, "I thank you for bringing him safely to our camp." Athelstan smiled, having missed her gentle nature towards all creatures.

"So we speak with your King tomorrow?" Lagertha pulled back, sitting up straight as her mare walked on. The castle gate grew before them and torches were lit to guide their way.

Athelstan nodded, "Hopefully Ragnar will get the land he seeks and Horak the treasure he seeks."

"And what about after?" She chanced, shifting her eyes to him as they stopped before the bridge.

He wrinkled his brow, "What do you mean?"

"Will you return with us?" She pressed, keeping her tone even. Lagertha couldn't help looking at the charm that lay twisted in his hair or the rune forever carved into his skin. He might be dressed as an English Priest, but his heart was a Viking's.

Athelstan dismounted, considering her questions, "And what is it you seek, Lagertha?" He asked his friend, leading the donkey towards the gate as it was let down. She wrinkled her nose, not liking a question instead of an answer.

"I seek my companion to return home with me." As she spoke, she pulled out her necklace from her dress collar, revealing the golden cross and amber pendant, "See, I too never forgot your promise." The way she spoke made Athelstan feel as if they were stepping over the line of simple companionship and, though it had been something he had considered for a long time, his mind was not yet made up.

"Can I give you an answer tomorrow?" He replied, his eyes pleading with her to understand. Though it was not the answer she wanted, she nodded in acceptance and turned her horse.

"Good night, Lady Lagertha." He called.

She looked over her shoulder, a playful smile on her face, "Did you not figure it out? I am _Earl _Lagertha now." And she left him to ponder that on his own.

When she returned, Ragnar was still awake, sitting by the fire and stoking the embers as he chewed on a piece of fish. Lagertha sighed as she dismounted and took a seat after she handed her horse off, knowing he wished to talk.

"I am not sure I ever noticed that charm that Athelstan wears." Ragnar threw the bones into the fire, "It is funny he wears it still even as a Priest back in the Christian's court."

"It is a piece of home." She replied, holding onto the cross she wore. Ragnar rose a brow, her action not going unnoticed.

"The funny thing is, it looks just like the ones your father gave you to wear for our wedding." He carelessly threw the rest of the fish into the fire, his patients thin, "The ones you wear right now." He picked up the braid of hair, which she allowed, and dropped it once more to rest on her shoulder.

Lagertha leaned forward, trying to relax and warm herself, "I gave it to him as a token, to remember me by. Are you jealous Ragnar?" She looked to him for an answer, "Because you were the one that left me."

He huffed, leaning back into the rich grass, "I don't remember leaving at all. That was what _you _did." He looked to her with accusing eyes.

She stood abruptly, her hands fisted at her side, "Because I would not stand for the dishonor and mockery you forced upon me."

"Lagertha," Ragnar leaned forward, his voice soft and loving, "I still love you and wish you would return. Now with Sigvard gone, we can unite the villages and you can come back and be with Bjorn again. We could be a family again." She grimaced, remembering how Sigvard had used to speak loving words to her after he had hit her.

"_We _will be nothing more than allies. I loved you once, Ragnar," She said, her eyes boring into his, "but I do not anymore."

"I love you." Ragnar looked up to her with pathetic eyes and she was again reminded of her constant forgiving of Sigvard's abuse.

She was Lagertha, the famous shield maiden, who had made something of herself by herself, and she would not allow any more disrespect or abuse of her body. No longer would she allow the same person that had struck her to provide the aloe for the wound.

She held her head proud, refusing to back down, "Not enough. I know what it is like to be cared about by someone who respects me as a woman and an equal. I will not allow anyone to make me feel as if I were property to own again or as something they can belittle with no consequence. I will see you before sunrise for the meeting. Good night, Ragnar." She turned on her heel and started towards her tent, an aura of power emanating from her very being.

Ragnar leaned back, ignoring the stares from those that had overheard Lagertha's speech. He picked up a piece of grass and began to chew on it; thinking he might just need to take a page from the Priest's book.

XxX

Dawn arrived soon enough. The Earls and King mounted their horses and started for the gates.

"How is your precious _Priest_?" King Horak smirked, a round of laughter trickled through their accompaniment. Lagertha ignored both his mockery and the lustful eyes of the crowned Prince.

"I suggest keeping your emotions in check, _Earl, _if we hope to have any sway with the King." King Horak continued, trying to get her to take the bait. Lagertha was an intelligent woman, however, even more so than the King. She knew better than to give into the ways of a foolish man.

They reached the gate without incident. The trade for the English King's son went smooth and soon the Earls and King were walking through the halls towards the pool chambers. Lagertha, who was unfazed by the naked men, stood by the pool and looked down to the King with her arms crossed, unyieldingly.

Every man in the chamber was entranced by her presence; each one dumbfounded that the Priest had not been drawn to her bed.

"Kommer Athelstan vara med oss? Be honom." Lagertha jutted her chin out to the King. King Ecbert's ears perked up at the familiar name and he looked to Ragnar for the translation.

"Earl Lagertha," Ragnar looked to the beauty who had captured the attention of all, "asks if the priest, Athelstan, will be joining us"

"The Priest has other…obligations…at this time. Hopefully that will not hinder our discussion." He looked to the beautiful woman, who he couldn't imagine living a hard life as Athelstan had said, and, instead, considered what it would be like if she were to warm his bed that night.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the pillar, shaking her head, "No, ve continue." She said in a thick accent. It was one of the few lines she had picked up from listening to Athelstan's lessons with Ragnar.

Once Athelstan was back, she would take him to Herby, since he was a freeman, and ask him to teach her English.

Her heart stuttered at a new thought; what if Athelstan chose not to come back? He was a freeman, which meant he was at liberty to stay if he so wished. He had yet to give her his answer from the previous night and she was wrong to assume she could decide his fate for him.

She shook her head, trying to focus on the task at hand. _Peace with our tribes, and then I will seek Athelstan's answer, _Lagertha thought.

"Let us talk." Ragnar held his arms out openly, showing he meant no threat.

XxX

Though his feet still hurt, Athelstan took a turn of the castle to stretch his legs, a book of Psalms in hand. He found himself admiring the artwork of the lettering more than reading, but, either way, it kept his thoughts off of the important meeting going on somewhere within the castle.

"Oh, Priest?"

Athelstan stopped, rolling his eyes before he turned around. He was so caught off guard by how close she was, he dropped his book.

"You know," Princess Kwenthrith stepped forward and he took a step back, "I could just always say you…forced…yourself upon me. They would have your head for that, _raping _a princess and all." She purred, "If you come willingly though, I wouldn't have to tell them of your horrible deed." He continued to back up, preferring flight to fight even though he could easily overpower her.

"The t-truth will always win out." He replied, his eyes nervous, "King Ecbert won't believe your lie."

"I am…quite…talented at getting men onto my side." She smiled, her dark features growing sinister as she sought a victory.

He looked around nervously for someone to assist him. She took hold of his shoulders and pushed him, surprisingly hard, against the stone wall.

"Do I make you nervous?" She asked, running her nose along the side of his collar and receiving a grimace from the Priest as he tried to move away from her. Princess Kwenthrith moved forward, pressing herself against him, "Are you sure you don't want to take up my…offer?" She took hold of his trousers, pulling at the tie.

"Athelstan!" A thick accent called his name. He looked up to see an embodiment of one of the Erinyes storming towards him. Lagertha came with her hair flowing over her shoulders, making it appear as if her halo had turned to fire in her wrath. Her crystal eyes were sharp, consumed by anger, while her hand rested on her sword hilt. Athelstan couldn't have been happier to see her; she would surely get him away from the minx before him.

At the appearance of the strange, and clearly armed, woman, Princess Kwenthrith quickly moved to get out of her way. She actually pushed Athelstan forward so he would take whatever blow Lagertha had to offer.

All the Priest could do was smile, breathing a sigh of relief, "Lagertha."

"Innebär detta groteska hora äger du vet?" Lagertha demanded, her eyes narrowed as she sneered at the woman. The Princess, who looked quite intimidated by the tall, goddess like shield maiden, looked quickly to the Priest for an explanation as the Viking continued to stare at her.

"What did she say?" She hissed, her voice hinting at her weakness as her eyes shifted back and forth. Athelstan kept his face blank, relishing her fear of whether Lagertha had threatened her life or not.

Though translating _she simply asked if this grotesque whore owns me now _would be entertaining, Athelstan knew better, "She asked if you are my wife."

Lagertha, who knew some English, looked to Athelstan, her eyes narrowing at the word _wife_. He quickly related to her that he had softened what she said to the Princess because he didn't want to terrify the girl. The Norsewoman smiled with pleasure, causing the English Princess to back up into the wall further.

Lagertha turned her eyes to the Priest, "Kommer du att följa med oss tillbaka till lägret? Ragnar och Horak har börjat tillbaka redan." The Princess looked nervously between the pair

Athelstan nodded for Lagertha's benefit and said in English, "Of course I will accompany you back to camp." The Earl of Hereby gave a curt nod before continuing down the hall, expecting him to follow.

Athelstan smiled at her jealousy as he picked up the book, "If you will excuse me, Princess, I must accompany the Earl." He said with a note of pride, knowing even the Princess was intelligent enough to know that an Earl in the North wielded more power than a Princess in the West. She let him go without any further delay.

"I didn't mean to _interrupt _anything." Lagertha snapped as they moved out of the courtyard. Servants stood with their horse and donkey, shifting from foot to foot as the arguing pair drew near.

He held his hands out innocently, "She has been showing interest in me since she arrived a few weeks ago. Trust me, though, I never touched her. I just…just didn't know how to react when she cornered me."

She turned sharply to him, causing him to run into her. Lagertha stood strong while the Priest stumbled, "You are a man, you have the strength to physically push her away. Or, maybe, you don't have the _right _kind of strength." She turned away from him and continued on her way.

Athelstan did something he never had before: he reached out and took a firm hold of her arm, forcing her to stop. He clutched her shoulders and bent his head so he was eyelevel with her, refusing to let her go, "Lagertha, you must believe me. I would never break your trust in that way." She narrowed her eyes, testing his words, and nodded when she found them believable.

She mounted her horse without further word and started for the gate, Athelstan hurried to catch up.

"Are you just going to stay mad at me?" Athelstan gently squeezed the donkey so she would catch up to the Earl.

"No, I _forgive_ you." She looked at him with narrowed eyes and he remembered the time he had said he forgave her and yet held onto his anger.

He sighed, knowing there was no changing her mind until the tempest blew over. The ride was uneasy to say the least.

"You never gave me your answer." She said as they drew near to camp. Athelstan looked to her, confused. Huffing, Lagertha rolled her eyes, "Will you return with us?"

Athelstan's mouth fell into an O of understanding. She tsked again and led her mare on.

"What? I didn't say anything." He followed dumfounded.

"Athelstan." Ragnar greeted his friend as they rode up. Athelstan just watched as Lagertha, ignorant to his presence, continued into the camp without as much as a glance back.

"Join us for our supper?" Ragnar offered. The Priest smiled, craving more time with his people. Once Athelstan was on the ground, Ragnar took hold of his wrist and slid the bracelet on, letting him know he was accepted among them once again.

As people gathered their portions for the evening meal, they took their seats around the fires. Athelstan sat close to Bjorn and Ragnar, enjoying the stories of their winter. Lagertha gathered her food and took her seat to the right of the Priest and instantly the father and son turned their attention to a different conversation.

Athelstan looked between the trio, feeling like he had been left out.

Lagertha picked at her food, huffing every once in a while, "I am sorry for how I acted earlier. You are not my husband; I have no right to correct your behavior."

He nodded, contemplating her words, "I forgive you." She looked to him sharply, doubting his forgiveness, "Sincerely." He smiled, "I do not care if you corrected me, all I care about is that you trust me when I say nothing happened. I promised you I would not touch Thyri, which I didn't, and I have kept that promise in light of my interactions with other women."

Lagertha looked to him, taking in what he said.

"Do you trust me?" His dark eyes lingered on her face.

She looked to him and gave a slow nod, "I do. Now."

Athelstan's face lit up and he nodded, "Good." Having found common ground one more, Athelstan pushed his sleeves up to enjoy the rest of his meal. A gasp escaped Lagertha's soft pink lips, causing the Priest to jump.

"What happened to your hands?" She left her plate discarded on the ground in favor of taking hold of his arm to examine the old wound.

Caught off guards by her outburst, Athelstan pulled back, trying to conceal the scar, "It—it is nothing."

She took back his hand, her eyes telling him to not pull away again, "It is not nothing." Others at the fire became interested and Bjorn moved to look over her shoulder.

"What happened?" Bjorn asked, meeting the Priest's eye. Athelstan pulled his hand back, shifting his sleeve back down, uncomfortable with all the attention.

"When I was caught during the ambush, they… they crucified me." Athelstan refused to meet anyone's eye around the fire. He was embarrassed that his own people, who claimed to hold to the Christian faith, could be so cruel to another human being.

Lagertha dropped her head, her eyes full of shock as she looked to his feet, "So…your feet…" She mulled through her thoughts, remembering the Priest speaking about the man-god who had been nailed to a cross, "That is why you limp." Her bright eyes looked to Athelstan, who nodded.

"Why would they do that?" Bjorn demanded, his fists shaking in anger.

"Because they are soldiers and I was a pagan; no more than a dog in their eyes." He looked down to his hand, tracing the familiar scar as shame coated him.

"I thought Christians were supposed to be loving to all." Ragnar rose a brow in question.

Athelstan looked to him, "You can call yourself a Christian and not seek the heart of God." Ragnar nodded in respect.

"Does it hurt you still?" Lagertha knelt by his feet, bringing them to rest upon her lap. Athelstan had to catch his breath; when he looked into her eyes, he saw the beautiful Freyja, but her action of servant hood reminded him of the Magdalen. He feared he would never find common ground between the gods of the Northmen and his.

"Only during the winter, it hasn't bothered me since the last snow." He replied.

"Come." Lagertha stood, brushing off her skirt, and offered her hand, "I can make a salve to put on them and dull the scars." He looked at her outstretched hand. Athelstan had grown used to the scars that mirrored his Christ and he wasn't sure he wanted them to disappear; they were sacred stigmata which reminded him that his life had been spared. Spared for what though, he was not sure.

Still, he accepted her hand and let her pull him up. Someone at a different fire whistled, quieting when Lagertha shot them a stern glare. Athelstan couldn't help but smile like a foolish boy. They must have been a sight; a Priest in his full dress following a pagan Northwoman into her tent.

"Sit on the bed and remove your shoes." She ordered, moving to search her things for her supplies. He did as he was told, the whole time watching her graceful movements and giving into the temptation his body felt at the sight of her.

Lagertha returned to him with a wooden bowl, her fingers dipped into the green salve. She started with his feet, letting the stillness of the night surround them.

When she moved to his hands, though, she took a steading breath, "Last autumn, after dinner, a searing pain burned my wrists. The feeling came from nowhere and there were no marks left on my arm after it finished, but the memory of the pain was still real. I wasn't sure how, but I knew something was wrong in England, I knew something had happened to you." She moved to his other hand, "I rallied my troops and went to Kattegat. There I learned the news that you had been caught in an ambush and were unaccounted for; neither in person nor corpse. I had let the omen go for the time being in favor of finding you, but now I know that I was suffering alongside you."

She stopped and looked deep into his eyes, "The gods have tied us to one another." Lagertha set the bowl aside and retrieved pieces of fabric that she began to tear.

Tears budded in her eyes and she let them fall as she bandaged his hands, "I tried to get them to return to search for you, but Ragnar and Horak wouldn't allow it with the winter setting in early." She wiped at her eyes, forcing a smile as she stood to put away her medicine, "I couldn't stand the thought of you being dead." He saw her shoulders shake as she finished. Her hand went up, clutching the Christian and Norse pendants for comfort, "I am so thankful to be with you once more."

"You still wear them." He smiled, finding life in her confession; he hadn't been forgotten.

Lagertha turned back, her eyes a bit brighter, "I never take them off." She poured them each a drink and returned to him.

"How does your husband feel on you wearing a Christian cross?" He asked, accepting the horn.

Lagertha smiled as if she knew a secret he knew not, "I have no husband." Athelstan waited for her to explain. She swished the thick liquid and took a long drink before answering, "The night I was granted the omen by Freyja, I had stabbed my husband in the eye and one of his men lopped his head off. That is how I became Earl." She toasted her drink and finished it off.

Athelstan, though surprised, and slightly appalled by the news, toasted to her title.

"I belong to no one but myself now." She looked to the empty horn and set it off to the side.

"You have never belonged to anyone but yourself." Athelstan clarified, setting his horn aside.

"You still never answered my question." Lagertha looked at her friend playfully, twirling the hem of her tunic like a shy girl, "Will you come back with me?" Athelstan looked to her with the innocent eyes of a child and she knew he felt torn.

Finding her patience, she sighed gently, "This one will be easier to answer perhaps; will you stay with me tonight and keep me warm?" She looked to him with an emotion he didn't quite understand.

"I can send a message back to King Ecbert that I will be staying here overnight to discuss further matters of state." Athelstan replied with a nod. Lagertha stood and moved towards the small table in her room. He watched as she followed her evening routine, which hadn't changed since the last time he had spent the night with her.

She removed the jewelry she wore, accept for the treasured tokens, and braided her hair back. Then she started to do something he hadn't expected; she took off the leather breast plate she wore, her belt and outer skirt and vest, which left her standing in nothing but her simple, white tunic.

Athelstan swallowed for a reason other than anxiety when she turned back to him with the same look in her eyes. Only then did he realize what it was, for he had only ever felt it, never experienced it directed towards him. She looked onto him with desire.

He sat, frozen, as she made her way to him. Athelstan knew he should have said something, stopped her, but his thoughts just didn't work. He was mesmerized by her beauty.

"I belong to no one now, Priest, surly your god does not have a problem with our sharing a bed together?" She whispered, standing before him and brushing back the curls that stuck to his forehead. Athelstan closed his eyes, leaning into her ministrations.

His body weakened at her touch, so when she pushed him back onto the bed he fell with no resistance. Athelstan opened his eyes just as she moved to straddle him, pinning him to the bed and lording above him like a beautiful seductress.

"Lagertha…" He said her name, his voice husky as he tried to get her attention, "Lagertha." He tried again, his voice a bit stronger.

Unlike Princess Kwenthrith, he knew Lagertha was stronger than him and he could not move her if she was set to staying where she was. She was a warrior and could take him in a fight with ease.

She smiled and leaned down, her beautiful hair dusting his neck as she started to undo his collar. Without warning, she started to kiss along his vein.

"Lagertha." His voice was weak and his eyes wide open, his hands clenching into the furs as he tried to control his lust.

"Lagertha…stop…p-please…we…can't." He finally breathed. His lack of experience made it hard for him to control his body or his thoughts.

"Why?" She whispered, her breath tickling his ear. Lagertha pulled back to meet his eye.

He breathed a sigh of relief; feeling a bit of reason return when she stopped kissed him. Though, not much, for she still straddled him with nothing on but the thin tunic.

"We aren't married." He answered, forcing himself to look only into her face.

"Why does it matter?" She leaned back down, brushing back the few curls that had escaped his tie and nuzzled her head against his neck, "The gods have bound us, isn't that enough?" Athelstan tensed as she trailed kisses down his neck.

"M-mine has not." He finally forced out, wiggling underneath her and trying to free himself, "Besides, I…I am a slave and you are an Earl. When we get back home, we cannot be together. " She laughed, a musical trickle that filled the room.

"What?" He demanded, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He pulled back, hurt by her mockery.

Lagertha shifted with him, her eyes filled with mirth, "You said when _we _get home. You plan on returning with us." It was a statement, not a question. She pulled his head forward, resting her forehead against his, "I laugh because I am filled with joy. Besides, the bracelet you wear signifies you are a freeman and, as an Earl and a free woman myself, I have the right to choose who I marry."

Athelstan shifted his wrist, letting the golden trinket catch the light. Lagertha took hold of his chin and kissed his lips. Athelstan let her, leaning into it even, and followed her as she pulled away.

She smiled in triumph, "The gods have tied our hearts together. To them, we are married, is that not enough?"

"We are not married in my God's eyes." He reiterated, trying to catch his breath from the kiss.

Huffing, she moved off of him and brushed back her stray locks, "What would bind us in your god's eyes?" She asked, knowing he would not give into her.

Athelstan sat up, straightening his tunic for something to do, "In our tradition, a man and woman go before the priest of their church and swear their vows before God."

Lagertha looked to him, her eyes filled with dare, "Are there any of your temples around here?"

"Of course, there is one in town and one every other mile after that." Athelstan explained, missing her point, "They are all over England." He looked back to her with naïve innocence.

Lagertha took his face in between her hands, trying to get him to understand, "Athelstan, is there one close by?" He hesitated just a moment before his eyes lit up with revelation and he smiled.

XxX

_Translations for the Swedish Lines_

_Kommer Athelstan vara med oss? Be honom._

_Will Athelstan be joining us? Ask him._

_Innebär detta groteska hora äger du vet_

_Does this grotesque whore own you now?_

_Kommer du att följa med oss tillbaka till lägret?_

_Will you accompany us back to camp?_

_Ragnar och Horak har börjat tillbaka redan._

_Ragnar and Horak have already started back._

XxX


	7. The Final Tie

XxX

Athelstan held faster to Lagertha's hand as they snuck through the quiet camp. Once they were in the clearing, far enough away, the shield maiden let herself laugh. She had heard of girls sneaking off with men their father didn't find suitable and now she got to experience it for herself. It was like she was a blushing young bride again, naïve to the pains of the world, and running away with her true love against her father's wishes. And that made it all the more exciting.

Athelstan pulled her close and she fell against his chest, her eyes still filled with youth as his finger pressed against his smile, shushing her.

"Do you want us to get caught?" He whispered, reaching up and brushing her hair back. She shook her head and her now loose hair fell around her in a halo.

"Come on." He nodded, taking hold of her hand once more and leading them through the dark. The town, like the Viking camp, was fast asleep as the couple weaved their way through it. The church grew before them and, once they were inside, Lagertha stopped and looked on at the beauty, just like Athelstan had stood in awe at Uppsala all those years ago.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He asked. Lagertha nodded, completing a circle as she took in the stain glass that glistened even in the moon light. The alter stood before them with its pristine cloths, where the sacred chalice and bread were placed, awaiting the Sunday service.

Candles were lined off diagonally from the holy center, lit as if someone had been expecting them.

"Your god lives well." She replied, her voice echoing off the smooth, stone walls.

Athelstan, still holding fast to her hand as if he were afraid she would evaporate, looked around, "The Father will be in his parish." He said.

Lagertha continued to gaze at the panes that told the stories of the Good Book; she dropped his hand in favor of moving closer. The Priest smiled in amusement, "I will go fetch him."

"No need." A thick, wheezing voice replied, startling both of them, "For I am here."

"Father Joseph." Athelstan inclined his head in respect. Over the months he had been held captive in the English town, he had gotten to know the town Priest quite well. He was a gentle man, a man whose heart was with the poor, and, unlike those who used their power for their own person gain, he sincerely sought to do the work of God and placed others higher than himself.

The elderly Priest came out, dressed in his nightgown and leaning heavily on his knobbed walking stick. There was gentleness in his bright hazel eyes and a smile on his lips, "What brings you to the church at this hour, Fray Athelstan?" His eyes looked next to the pagan woman beside him, who continued to look around in amazement.

Keeping his head down, Athelstan answered, "We seek to be married." He winced as he said it, prepared to be walloped by the stick.

Father Joseph just looked at the young man, knowing he had already taken his vows, "Do you know the severity of what you asked?"

Athelstan, with his head still down, nodded.

"Are you sure you wish to break your vows? It would mean excommunications from the Church." The Priest warned, his eyes without judgment. Athelstan listened to his words, his heart racing. He hadn't given much thought to the ramification of his actions, having let his heart be led by the whims of his flesh.

"Vad sa han?" Lagertha requested, her brow knit with confusion.

Athelstan leaned over and replied in her tongue, "He asked if I am willing to break my vows as a monk." He turned back to the Father, "I am." His voice was stronger than he thought it would be.

"Very well." The Priest nodded, studying the woman, "Is she with child?"

Athelstan's eyes grew, instantly feeling shame, even though he had done nothing, "N-no. We…we have done nothing." He blushed as he spoke and the Father understood why they were seeking marriage at such a late hour.

"There are quite a few lovely women to be taken in marriage around here, young, strong females who would bear you equally strong sons." The Father stated, knowing that the Viking woman was at least two years older than the Fray, which lessened her chances of having children, much less ones that would survive, "Why choose a pagan over one who shares your faith?"

Athelstan looked to Lagertha, love pouring forth from his eyes. But it was more than just that which the Father saw; the Fray would lay down his life for the woman before him, he respected her and honored her in a way that was rare in marriage. Though they came from different walks of life, they were the physical embodiment of St. Paul's instructions to the Ephesian households.

"God has bound our souls." He looked to the Father, his eyes more honest than any confession, "And I do not care about sons. I care about her." Athelstan let his eyes gaze upon her beauty.

"Does she know what she is getting herself into?" Father Joseph asked, his eyes turning to the woman, who he was certain didn't know their language, "Marriage is a very sacred union, even between those of different cultures."

Athelstan turned to Lagertha to translate but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. She turned to the Father, her eyes determined, "Yes, yes…vad som är "gifta"?" She looked to Athelstan for the word.

"Marry." He replied slowly, "M-air-ee."

She turned back to the Christian Father with confidence, "Marry. Us." Lagertha pointed between the two of them, "Yes."

Father Joseph smiled at the girl, "She wears a Christian cross but speaks no English?" He looked to Athelstan, chastising him lightly.

"Our language is not useful in their country." Athelstan offered weakly, knowing the Father was right.

"As her husband, you are to instruct her and tend to her care. If you stay here, she will need to know the language and customs." The Father countered; his eyes soft and bright. Athelstan nodded.

The Father moved to Lagertha and offered her his hand. She looked cautiously to Athelstan, who nodded for her to accept it.

"What is your name, my dear child?" He asked her, encasing her hand with his.

Athelstan quickly translated and Lagertha looked back to the elder man, "Lagertha, Earl av Herby."

"Lagertha." The Father tried the name on his lips and smiled, "A beautiful name for a beautiful woman." He looked to Athelstan, "She reminds me of my mother; she was a foreigner of Northern lands. My father broke his vows as well to take her as his wife. Everyone was aghast and frowned upon the marriage in the beginning, shunning them, even when I was born. But they went on to do great things together, things they couldn't have done if they remained apart. If this is your wish, Fray Athelstan, I will marry you."

Lagertha looked quickly between the two men, knowing they were talking about something of great significant. Athelstan's smile reached his eyes and she knew instantly what had transpired.

"Marry?" She asked, her own eyes shining.

The Father nodded, "Yes, marry. Have you exchanged rings already?"

Athelstan, feeling like a failure as a husband even before he said his vows of matrimony, shook his head.

"Do you have rings?" The Father pressed further, awaiting his answer, but having already guessed it. Again, Athelstan shook his head.

Father Joseph released his hold on the Norsewoman and removed a necklace from around his neck, "My mother gave me this ring when I took my vows as a monk. It was the last thing she had from her homeland of Herby; I think it is time that it returns home." He handed the chain to Athelstan, who accepted it and gazed at the beautiful craftsmanship. The ring was a simple silver sphere with many Ingwazs carved around the metal; a very small sapphire was placed in the middle of each of the diamond shaped runes.

"Are you sure you wish to part with it?" Athelstan asked, his dark eyes wandering to his fellow Christian.

"It is best if things are returned to where they belonged." A playful twinkle was in his eye as he looked at the Priest, who had spent years among the Vikings, "Shall we get started?" He looked between the pair. Athelstan turned to Lagertha, who nodded.

"If you will face one another before the alter." The Father directed as he shuffled towards his place, "Since you have not had a formal betrothal, you will have to exchange rings after your vows."

"Very well." Athelstan nodded, the curls starting to escape his tie and fall across his forehead. Lagertha stood awkwardly across from him, not sure what to do. Athelstan reached out and took hold of her hands, giving them a comforting squeeze. She instantly relaxed into a smile.

"Let us begin." The Father opened the Great Book, "Marriage is a sacred act that was created by God, our Father who art in heaven."

Wrinkling her nose, she turned to Athelstan, "Did he just say Odin, All-Father?" Athelstan shook his head playfully and mouthed no.

"I grant my blessing to the couple before me to be bound in matrimony. May their union bring joy to both of them, honor to You, and children to continue Your work, O God." He turned to Athelstan, "As the husband, you will leave your family and all you are behind in favor of taking her into the house you prepare for her. You are to instruct her, respect her, and love her as Christ loved the Church. You will keep your marriage bed pure and you will provide her with a roof for shelter, food for nourishment, and love for fulfillment. If you agree to what is being asked of you, reply with 'With God's help, I sweat to uphold my vows'."

Athelstan looked to the Earl, his eyes promising, "With God's help, I swear to uphold my vows."

The Father next turned to Lagertha, "As a wife, you will leave your family and all you are behind in favor of going into the house in which he, as your husband, has prepared for you. You will respect him as your husband and head of house. You will provide him with a pure marriage bed, a heart for him alone, honor due a husband, and children, if able. If you agree to what is being asked of you, reply with 'With God's help, I swear to uphold my vows'."

Athelstan translated the vows for her and said her response slowly in English so she could repeat it.

"Vit…Vith G-God's help, I svear te uphold me vows." She smiled once the words were out successfully, her thick accent unable to hinder the meaning.

"You may give her the ring now." The Father nodded to the once Fray. Athelstan undid the chain and slid the ring off, holding his hand out for Lagertha. She smiled and placed her hand in his.

The ring was a perfect fit and she caught herself gazing at the simple ring as if it were the most precious thing she had ever seen.

"I pronounce you man and wife." The Father hobbled towards the alter and returned with a small bowl of myrrh oil.

"May the Lord bless and keep you." He dipped his fingers in the fragrant mixture and placed a cross on Athelstan's forehead, "May the Lord's face shin upon you." Lagertha looked nervously to Athelstan when the Father turned next to her.

"It is a blessing." Athelstan explained, putting her at ease. She turned back to the man and bowed her head.

"May he grant you many children." He rested a hand on each of their heads and closed his eyes, "You will bring forth a child that will bring great honor to the pagans, and they will bring light to the darkest of their days. How blessed your path will be in the years to come." The Father prophesied. Athelstan smiled as he pulled back.

"Vad sa han? Efter välsignelsen." Lagertha nodded to the Father.

Athelstan leaned over, "Vi kommer att ha ett barn som kommer att föra ära för oss." He translated.

Lagertha's eyes grew, instantly remembering the Seers words from all those years ago which remained forever burned into her heart.

"A…child…" She whispered to herself, her ring hand making its way to lie on her stomach. Her smile grew; she would feel life growing once more within her like she had wanted too. She would feel _Athelstan's_ child within her. Lagertha remembered her worry at not conceiving Ragnar's promised sons and, during her years in Herby, her relief that her body have never accepted the offspring of Sigvard.

Lagertha had started to give up on her dreams of childrens' laughter filling her house once more, especially after she didn't conceive over the past years. Now, with the Seer's words confirmed by the Christian Father's, she felt hope that her body would be filled with life once more.

She looked to Athelstan, who was brightened by love.

_That is the difference, _she thought, _there must be a bond of love to create a child. _

Ragnar's thirst for sons was too great and Sigvard's lust for her body was not enough to produce another life. Only the pure love of the Priest would be enough to bring forth a life that could change the course of history.

Lagertha took his hand, grasping it firmly. Her ring caught the light and shimmered, "Home?" She said in English.

Athelstan couldn't stop smiling, "Home."

XxX

They snuck quietly back into camp and stumbled into Lagertha's tent. Athelstan caught his bride, the two of them laughing as they enjoyed the moment.

"So, is your god happy now?" Lagertha asked, looking up to her husband threw her lashes as she twirled his cross between her fingers. She stood on her toes, her lips hovering above his.

Athelstan smiled and gave a nod, "I would say so." Lagertha kissed him softly before taking his hand to lead him to her bed. His nerves pricked as he realized what was about to happen.

"Are you alright?" She asked playfully, stopping before the warm furs. Athelstan nodded, his words lumping in his throat.

She leaned in, her eyes sultry, "Good." Gently, she turned him and pushed him onto the bed. He obeyed, his wide eyes looking to her, "Because I am your wife now."

At the thought, Athelstan relaxed. She was his and he was hers; there didn't need to be any boundaries now. They were married; the Father had blessed their union and they could now be together. Fully together, as man and wife.

Like before, Lagertha stripped to her simple tunic and Athelstan allowed himself to watch with desiring eyes.

A verse appeared in his thoughts, "It is not good for man to be alone." He whispered in his home tongue, solidifying his belief in marriage – in _his _marriage – which he had broken his vows for.

"What did you say?" Lagertha asked gently, moving forward and brushing his curls back as he sat up.

Athelstan allowed himself to take hold of her hips, a rush of excitement growing within him, "In the Creation story, God created woman so man would not be alone." He looked away from her so he could straighten his thoughts, "I always use to think it was more pious to remain celibate but now…I see things differently." He allowed himself to take in her beauty once more. Lagertha smiled and her skilled hands started to remove the ties of his tunic while she captured his lips. With his tunic off, she gently pushed him back once more and followed him.

Straddling him, she continued to kiss along his neck. His breathing grew coarse and his chest rose and fell rapidly.

"Are you nervous, Husband?" She whispered against his neck, smiling pleasantly at the tilted.

"I—I have never…done…anything like this. I haven't even ever been kissed by a woman, apart from you." A warm blush coated his face, "I…I am not sure I will be able to-to please you."

Lagertha sat upright, her crystal eyes gazing at the man beneath her, "Do you trust me?"

Caught off guard by the question, Athelstan tilted his head to look at her, "Of course." Without hesitation, Lagertha removed her tunic to share herself completely with her husband.

His heart sped up as she leaned back down, her hand messing with the belt of his trousers, "Then let me teach you." She kissed him once more, and he responded with his want and love.

XxX

Not an hour later, Lagertha moved to lie next to him. Both panted for breath while rivers of sweat made its way down their bodies.

"Y-you pleased me…me greatly, Husband." Lagertha signed, curling up to Athelstan and snuggling her head into the crook of his neck. He could only nod as he worked to catch his breath. He brought his hand up to pat hers, trying to convey the same message.

Lagertha reached out and gently traced the scar on his hand, knowing it had created a bond between them but wishing she could have kept the pain from him. Her eyes turned next to the Ingwaz behind his ear.

"When did you get the tattoo?" She asked, tracing the shape.

Athelstan smiled, leaning into her touch, "A week after you left." Lagertha pulled back, confused. Athelstan smiled and brushed her hair back to kiss her forehead, "I couldn't sleep knowing that you weren't in the same house as I. I would lie awake for hours thinking of you, remembering how you use to trace the shape upon my skin. I figured if I had it forever with me, it might ease the pain of you leaving."

"I am sorry for leaving you behind." Lagertha sighed, resting her head against his, "I never want to cause you pain. Just like your scars, if I could have taken the pain away, I would have." She brought his hand up and kissed his wrist.

"As would I for you." Athelstan turned to face her and pulled her closely against his body, "But, I think we each had to finish our own separate paths before joining them."

Lagertha rolled her eyes playfully, "The gods' destiny again?"

"Did you not say that they were the ones to tied us together?" Athelstan replied cheekily. Lagertha wacked his shoulder, still smiling.

Lagertha moved to lie on her stomach, her eyes watching his soft face, "Since we were married in your customs, can we do the same when we return home?" Athelstan nodded and his thoughts turned back to the King, wondering if he would let him go if he asked. She sensed his distance and replied in such, "So tell me, what have you been doing for the _King_?" She tried to keep her tone light but her wrinkled nose gave her away.

Athelstan reached up and ran his hand softly down her arm, enjoying the feel of her next to him, "I translated old pagan myths for him." He smiled, tracing the Ingwaz on her bare shoulder, "In each one, I saw you."

"Oh?" She cocked her head, looking to him and testing whether his words were playful or true.

"In the sword skills of the wise warrior, Minerva, in the bed of the beautiful goddess, Venus, and in the loyalty of Psyche. You were in every page I read, in every dream I had and in every thought I kept company." He leaned in and whispered into her ear as if it were a secret between the two of them. Lagertha shivered at the action.

Athelstan kissed her bare shoulder, his hand coming up to rub circles affectionately into her back.

"I must share something with you, Husband." Again, she smiled at the name. She felt it would never get old to her lips.

Athelstan let his lips rest against her shoulder, "Yes, Wife?"

"I believe the ways of women is almost to an end for me. I am already in my thirtieth year." Lagertha's heart beat faster, her fear of rejection strong, "I already could not grant Ragnar his sons. Your promised child might not come through me after all, no matter what the Priest or the Seer says." She picked at her thumb, refusing to meet his eye and share her shame with him.

Athelstan pulled back, resting on his side as he looked at her, "Did you not hear what I said to the Father?" He asked, his longer fingers gently caressing her jaw and causing her to shiver.

Lagertha smirked, her eyes moving to her Husband's, "I do not speak English."

"Oh, right." Athelstan winced, feeling foolish, "I will teach you the language, if you wish, when we return home."

"I would like that." Lagertha nodded, brushing his curls to the side.

Athelstan leaned into her touch, sighing in content, "What I said to Father Joseph is that I do not care about sons." He let his dark eyes meet hers, showing her he meant what he said, "I will have no others, whether we have children or not, for I feel as if my life is complete with you by my side. I would never dishonor you by taking another to my bed; I will keep our marriage bed pure. I do not care for prophesied sons; I desire you alone." Lagertha's heart found peace in his honest words.

A second burst of energy erupted within the Earl and she turned into him, pressing her naked body against his and wrapping her arms tightly around his torso, "Would you like to try again?" She kissed his neck, suckling his ear.

"One…one more question." He tried to get out, Lagertha pulled back to listen respectfully, "Sh-should we tell anyone?" Athelstan asked, letting his head fall to the side to gaze at his beautiful bride, "About us that is…or should we wait until the ceremony in Herby?"

"Let us wait; I loved the idea of a secret just between the two of us." And with that, she captured his lips and fell once more into their night of passion. Lagertha was impressed to find that the once Priest could keep up with her stamina and wouldn't be done until she was satisfied. Not only did he please her body, but also her ears with his constant praise and I love you's.

XxX

The next day they were on the ship sailing North with England shrinking into a memory behind them. Athelstan stood at the bow, holding fast to one of the lines, while Lagertha sat watching him. The salt water sprayed him and the wind whipped at his face, but all he could thinking was that he was going home to where God destined him to be.

XxX

_Translations for Swedish Lines_

_Vad sa han?_

_What did he say?_

_Vad som är "gifta"?_

_What is "marry"?_

_Earl av Herby. _

_Earl of Herby._

_Vad sa han? Efter välsignelsen._

_What did he say? After the blessing._

_Vi kommer att ha ett barn som kommer att föra ära för oss._

_We will have a child who will bring honor to us._

XxX


	8. The God's Gift

XxX

"Like this." Lagertha fisted his hand for him and bent his arm before resting her mirroring arm against his, "And then we spin around like this and put your feet in and out as you go." Athelstan looked to his feet, trying to match her steps. Lagertha laughed, her eyes filled with mirth. As they spun, the flowers from her hair gave off a sweet fragrance.

Finally, accepting the fact that he would never learn how to properly dance, he focused on not stepping on her feet as they twisted around the other couples.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Husband?" Lagertha smiled, her crystal eyes youthful and loving. Her simple, blue dress spun around gracefully as he turned her.

Athelstan nodded, his dark eyes shimmering, "I have never been happier."

Bjorn stood up on one of the tables, calling for the gathering's attention, "To the Bride and Groom, may the gods bring joy to your union and a younger brother for me. To Athelstan and Lagertha!" Athelstan pulled his bride to him and kissed her head as the crowd erupted with cheer.

Lagertha, tired from dancing, tugged on his hand until he followed her towards the table, "Let us rest and drink. I have news to share." Athelstan let her lead him, knowing he would follow her anywhere.

They had been back for almost three months and had put off the wedding until things had quieted down from Horak's uprising. Now though, the villages were peaceful once more and it was time to celebrate.

"Ragnar is not here." Athelstan noted, reaching for one of the horns.

Lagertha sighed, "We do not need the _King _to celebrate our union. His blessing means nothing." Athelstan kept quiet as he looked to her, knowing his absence hurt her just as much as it did him.

"So what of this news you have to share?" Athelstan asked, trying to change the subject.

Lagertha set her drink aside and smiled, "Remember the night after our vows in your Church?"

Athelstan smiled like a young boy, "How could I forget? You grew tired only when the first light started to shine."

She smiled at his bold charm, "Well, Husband, I believe something has come about from our love that night." Athelstan looked at her, trying to decipher her riddle. Lagertha leaned in with a sparkle in her eyes, "I believe I am with child."

He pulled back, his eyes as wide as a shield, "H-how?"

Lagertha burst out laughing, "I thought you knew how by now."

"A-are you…you sure?" He stuttered, his eyes wandering to her stomach.

"I have been with child before and all the signs are the same." She reached up and gently caressed his face, pushing back his loose curls, "I am pregnant with _your _child." Excitement grew within the once Priest, a joy he had not been expecting at hearing such news engulfed him.

He pushed out of his chair to kneel beside her and pressed his head to her stomach.

Lagertha smiled, "My love, you will not be able to hear anything." She ran her fingers back through his thick hair.

All of a sudden, Athelstan, unable to keep his celebration to himself, jumped up on the table, still holding fast to her hand, "Everyone, good news…" He looked to Lagertha with loving eyes, "Lagertha, your Earl, is with child!"

Bjorn, always the one for jokes, chuckled, "Who knew the Priest had it in him to break his vows twice? Not only did he marry, but he put a child in my mother before the wedding night! I will surely have a brother before the night is finished!" Laughter erupted around them and Athelstan's blush colored his face.

Lagertha stood up to defend her husband, "We were married in the custom of his village before we left England and the Priest of the village released him from his vows beforehand. He was neither a priest when we married nor an unwed man when he came to my bed." Athelstan looked to her sheepishly with thanks as he got down from the table, the laughter only grew around them.

"Oh, the Priest needs a woman to defend him?" A manipulating voice came from the doorway, silencing all. All turned to see King Ragnar walking in, his Queen following close behind with her head high and sons surrounding her.

Lagertha head her high up, refusing to break eye contact first. They were in her village after all, "My husband can defend himself, I was simply clarifying our situation."

Ragnar snagged a drink from one of the tables and downed it, Aslaug followed with a hand rested on her pregnant belly, "I figured you would invite the _King _and _Queen _to celebrate with you." He smirked and Aslaug joined in, clearly impressed by their new titles. Athelstan shook his head at his friend; pride always did come before the fall.

"We did." Lagertha moved from behind the table, "But the _King_ didn't respond." She answered sarcastically.

Ragnar held his hands out and looked to the subjects of Herby, "Here I am. I didn't know you could get married without _my _permission."

"I am Earl." Lagertha said through clenched teeth, her eyes dangerous, "I don't need a _king's _permission." Athelstan came up behind her and set a hand on her shoulder in support.

"You don't." Ragnar winked, clearly enjoying himself, "But it never hurts."

The very pregnant Aslaug stepped up, "Did I hear correct that you are with child, Lagertha?" She asked, refusing to use the Earl's title. Athelstan shivered when he saw her; nothing about the woman was sincere. The crowd around them winced as well, knowing the Queen's disrespect to their Earl wouldn't go unchallenged.

"I am." Lagertha answered, turning to wrap her arm around her husband's waist, "We are."

"How…fortunate." Aslaug looked down her nose at the woman, who was smaller than her tall frame but twice as fierce.

"A woman can grow pregnant with child from any man, but the gods wished me to only have children with meaning from the right men. My child will bring honor to their village; whether male _or _female." Lagertha countered, her head high. Athelstan kissed her head, gently advising her to be respectful of their guests.

"Will you come join in our celebration?" Lagertha gestured to the table, knowing she had the Queen beat. Not only was she, Lagertha, a ruler of her own people, who wielded all of the power on her own, but she was a woman with backbone and courage which the Princess, now Queen, lacked completely.

Lagertha was also with a man that loved her for more than her ability to produce children and was clearly favored by the gods. The woman before her was nothing more than a way for Ragnar to have sons.

"No, we came only to wish the Bridegroom our best wishes." Aslaug said for her husband. She looked to Ragnar with eyes that told him she was demanding to leave that instant.

"Yes. We—we best be on our way." Ragnar rubbed his neck, knowing she had made the decision for the both of them. If he wished not to sleep in the servant's quarters, he had best to listen to her.

Athelstan stepped up, his gentle spirit coming forward, "But Kattegat is almost a two days journey, surely you didn't come all this way for a few minutes?"

Ragnar started to speak but Aslaug stepped forward, "We don't like being where we are not welcomed." She looked to Lagertha, her muddy eyes narrowing.

"No one said you are not welcome, we wouldn't have extended an invitation if you were not." Athelstan said, his voice diplomatic as he smiled sincerely.

"The baby is due soon and I'd like to be home." Aslaug said sharply, turning on her heel.

Ragnar finished his drink before he turned with a flourish, his horn raised, "Good luck, Priest! You have a feisty one there!" Once the doors closed behind the pair, chatter erupted around the hall.

Bjorn huffed, downing his drink, "She wanted me to call her _mother_ when I stayed with them. I spit at her feet and left." He scowled, tossing his empty horn aside, "Good to be rid of them."

"This is a time for celebration." Athelstan called over the gossip, "Not dealing with political strife and upset queens. Your Earl is pregnant and her line is secure. The harvest looks promising and new worlds are coming to light. We should be dancing!" Lagertha looked at him playfully, "Or…at least celebrating in the ways each of us are gifted in." He corrected, his cheeks warming as she took his hand.

"I bet it is a boy." Bjorn toasted, grabbing another horn. Cheers went around while some called for it to be a girl.

"What do you hope for it to be, Husband?" Lagertha whispered, turning to the man who stood next to her. Her hand rested on her stomach like Aslaug's had earlier, "A boy or a girl?"

Athelstan smiled, his eyes lingering on her stomach and his hand joining hers, "I hope for a healthy, happy child, who will be easy for her mother to deliver."

Lagertha smiled, tilting her head as her crystal eyes admired her husband, "You said _her_."

"Did I?" Athelstan looked up, his face etched in surprise. Lagertha just nodded, her smile bright and her laughter joyful.

They joined in the merrymaking of the night, enjoying the love they shared and the true friends surrounding them.

XxX

"What are you doing?" A now very pregnant Lagertha asked, her hands fisted on her hips.

Athelstan wiped his brow with his sleeve, his eyes hurting from the winter sun, "I…I…I am to pr-provide a house…" He huffed, leaning back on his heels on the roof, "The baby is supposed to come any day now and I need to build a solid house before then; no creaks or ways for flurries to get in. It needs to be safe, warm and dry like the one I was supposed to make for you _before _we got married." Athelstan, whose hands now matched the work of Lagertha's, picked up the hammer and continued his work.

"We can live in town, where the Earl residence is." Lagertha sighed, knowing it was no use.

"That's…that's not what you want though." Athelstan said, pounding the last few nails in the wood, "You love the country life. Y-you said your father…your father built the…the house for your mother and…and you wanted one just—just like it."

Lagertha sighed again, wishing she had never told him that. He had been working like a dog since she had told him of her dream.

Pain rocked her spine and she gasped. Athelstan, with his keen hearing, instantly slid down the ladder and was by her side, "W-what…what is wrong?"

Lagertha smiled, knowing exactly what it was. She took his arm, trying to calm him as another contraction shocked her, "I…I—ouw—I need you to go get a midwife." She winced, knowing that they were far enough apart that there was still time.

Lagertha remembered the miscarriage that had occurred the last time she had life within her, but the instant the thought occurred to her she pushed it away; she was well within her ninth month and was healthy as could be for her age. Besides, the gods were with her.

This baby would survive.

"G-go get the midwife. I will…I will get—get inside and…and get settled." Lagertha pushed him away and started inside.

Athelstan hesitated, stumbling over his own feet, "Lagertha—"

"Go!" She pointed to town and he took off, smiling like a fool the entire way and calling out to everyone he saw that he was going to be a father.

XxX

That had been five years ago. Five bliss filled year of a life well lived. Each year of their marriage was blessed with a child, one year with two in one birth, and each year they would alter their name choices to celebrate both of their traditions.

Now, as Athelstan stood outside of the bedroom, he paced with the same anxiety of their first child while Bjorn watched him, just as nervous. There was no screaming or really any sound coming from the room and, though she had years of experience with the pain, Athelstan was worried.

Lagertha was as beautiful as the day he had married her, or, more correctly, the year he had married her twice, but though she acted young, her body wasn't. She was in her thirty-fifth year and the last pregnancy had taken a toll on her. Lagertha had to spend three weeks in bed to recover and getting that woman to lie still for that long took an act of both his God and hers.

Bjorn moved to the floor to play with the two youngest, the twins Liam and Lukas, who had yet to learn how to fully walk. Josef, the oldest, was telling a story to Noak while Klaus sat beside them, pensively looking at a bug. Athelstan smiled at each of his sons, trying to refocus his worry

"She will be fine." Bjorn darted his eyes to his friend, "Sit down, Da." Athelstan did as he was told, taking comfort in the title Bjorn had bestowed upon him a couple years back.

"Do you hope for another son?" Floki, who had come to spend the winter in Herby, asked.

Athelstan leaned forward, his praying hands resting against his mouth, "I will be happy with whatever she gives me as long as she and the baby are healthy when it is over."

Floki poured himself a drink, downing it in a gulp, "Which son do you think will fulfill the prophecy of the Seer, or has he yet to come?" He poured another draught.

Athelstan smiled lightly, "She has not come yet."

Floki stopped mid drink, his painted eyes looking to the Priest, "Only a Christian could wish for a daughter."

"Are you not happy with yours?" Athelstan asked, leaning back and looking at the ship maker playfully. Floki started to retort but stopped, knowing his daughter had had him wrapped around her finger since birth and was truly the keeper of his heart.

Athelstan inclined his head in humble victory, "Then do not begrudge me mine." The room grew quiet and then a cry broke it, all the men were instantly on their feet.

The midwife's assistant, a young girl of about fifteen, came out wiping her bloody hands, "The child is here." Her smile reached her green eyes.

Athelstan stood stock still, awaiting what she would say next.

"A girl." She looked to the father, hesitant at what his response would be. Her eyes darted around to the young boys scattered about the room, wondering how he would react to the news of a daughter.

The oldest, Josef, named after the priest that had bound his parents, sat with his golden hair and dark eyes enthralling his brothers, the four year old Noak, who looked exactly like his mother, and three year old Klaus, who looked exactly like his father, with a tale of adventure, while the twins, each with their own head of dark hair and bright crystal eyes, were being entertained by their half-brother.

"C-can I see her?" Athelstan asked, his voice breaking. The girl nodded, smiling in relief, and pulled back the curtain for him to enter.

"Lagertha?" He whispered, his dark eyes scanning the room. The midwife pulled back the window curtains to let the light in. His eyes watched as she moved next to the child to make sure she was ready to be presented to the parents. But, instead of looking to the child, he did as he always did and went to kneel next to Lagertha.

"Are you alright, Wife?" He asked, his eyes scratched with worry as he brushed back her matted golden tresses. She nodded with vigor.

Lagertha brought her hand up and took hold of his, "I must look terrible."

"You look beautiful." He whispered, kissing her forehead.

"You have to say that, Husband." She smiled as he pulled back.

Athelstan laughed, "I'm a Priest, I cannot lie." That wit got Lagertha to join in heartedly.

"The five sons out there beg to differ." She nodded to the door.

"And a daughter." Athelstan smiled as if he had gotten the perfect present.

Lagertha looked to him, studying his face that never seemed to age. He always had the same boyish and innocent look to him, "Are you happy with a daughter?" Before he could answer, the midwife brought over the small bundled child.

"Would you like to hold her?" She asked, standing next to Athelstan. Hesitantly, he got to his feet and cautiously took the precious babe as if it were his first.

"Surely you have done this once or twice before." The midwife's eyes twinkled as she saw the gentleness with which he held his daughter, his love for her was rare to see in a Viking father. Athelstan looked to her and smiled before slowly reaching up to reveal her face.

The child yawned, opening her crystal eyes just a crack. Athelstan brushed back her dark curls and kissed her forehead, "She's beautiful. Here, Lagertha, look for yourself. Isn't she more beautiful than anything you have ever seen? No treasure is worth what she is." He cooed, unable to take his eyes off of his daughter.

"One has to have love to conceive a child." Lagertha whispered as Athelstan leaned down to show her their daughter, "Are you happy, Husband?" She asked again.

"I am happy with each and every child you have given me." Athelstan replied, "None surpasses the other; each child simply brings a new layer of joy to my heart." Lagertha took hold of his hand and gave it a loving squeeze.

"This year is your year for a name." Lagertha continued.

Athelstan stared down at the small beauty and knew then that she was the gift of God promised to him long ago. His eyes looked to his beautiful bride, the love he felt for her causing his heart to stir. She had given him the most wonderful treasure.

"Hnoss." He said, letting his eyes wander back to his beautiful daughter.

Lagertha pulled back, caught off guard, "But…that is the daughter of Freyja and Odr. A…a name of _my_ gods, not yours."

Athelstan nodded, unable to take his eyes off of the babe's that gazed up at him with love, "And it means treasure. She will be the fulfillment of the prophecy by the Seer and the Priest."

"How do you know?" Lagertha asked curiously.

Athelstan just shrugged, rocking back and forth to lull Hnoss to sleep, "Because I'm her father."

"I didn't think you believed in the Seer's gift." She pressed, moving so she could sit up in her bed and make room for her husband. Athelstan sat down next to her as Hnoss started to sleep.

"God can give visions to anyone He chooses and He confirmed His promise by the words of the church Father. Who am I to contradict what He has made known to us?" Athelstan smiled down at the babe, "She is a great treasure." Lagertha snuggled next to her husband, fatigue dragging at her eyes.

Bjorn poked his head in, his younger brothers following suite and peering around the corner, "Can we meet her?"

"Yes, but you have to be quiet." The midwife warned, holding back the curtain. The boys rushed in, surrounding the bed and carefully crawling on.

Lagertha smiled as Josef crawled up by his father's feet, the perfect example for Noak and Klaus to follow suite. Bjorn came in with Liam on his hip and Floki following with Lukas. They all settled in to look at the new addition.

"What…what…what is-is her name?" Noak asked in his sweet voice, his bright eyes looking to his father's for an answer. Lagertha ruffled his light hair and drew him to her side.

Athelstan smiled, holding her out for all to see, "Hnoss."

"Pretty." Klaus smiled down at the babe and her dark hair, "Like momma."

Josef made a small, chubby fist and rapped it against his chest, "We protect."

"Oh, she will love that." Lagertha rolled her eyes with a smile. Bjorn leaned over and kissed her head, "Did you teach them that?" She asked playfully.

Athelstan looked around at his family, remembering the time long ago when he thought he would never know the feeling of family again.

Lagertha rested her head on his shoulder, her finger tracing his Ingwaz, "Are you happy, Husband?" Her eyes looked around with pride at her children.

He turned to her with a small smile and answered, "How could I not?" Looking around at his family, his smile grew even more as he took in each of their faces, "I'm home."

XxX


End file.
